


Darkness Flows Thicker Than Blood

by BertSweep



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequels, Star Wars TFA
Genre: Arkanis Academy, Assassination Attempt(s), Child Abuse, F/M, Flashbacks, Hux needs a hug, Poisoning, Star Wars - Freeform, TFA - Freeform, Teen Hux, Young Captain Opan, Young Hux, Young Kylo Ren, life changing loss, power positions, tragic past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BertSweep/pseuds/BertSweep
Summary: Armitage Hux. A boy born into a family that looks on him with nothing but shame. Hated by his father and abused by all, he trains at the Academy with a dark determination. Bent on becoming the youngest and greatest officer the Empire has ever known, he strives to push past the cloud of shame someday win his father's praise. But what happens when he meets his real mother? Will the love and admiration she has for him effect his militant destiny? What horrible choices lie in store as he faces the crossroads of adulthood?





	1. Shadows of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is dark. Really dark. My friend actually cried at one point, so.... enjoy! Poor Hux.

**_ THE OUTER RIM: ARKANIS SECTOR _ **

**Fifteen** **years earlier**

The sheer sound of it roared with potent rage, penetrating his eardrums and overwhelming his mind with its shrill cry. Relentlessly the scream pounded upon his panic-stricken brain, rattling it with ringing echoes. Intense blinding light followed by an untamed wave of throbbing heat ruthlessly crashed into his body; launching him into the air as if he were weightless, and then violently slamming him back down to the hard, rocky ground; taking away any breath he had been given.

     The unabated pain, disguised as adrenaline, convulsed within his beaten form as he lay there still and defeated. He was bleeding, he was sure of it. The feeling of that thick warm liquid pooling around his face, filling his ears, nose and eyes; it was all too familiar.

     Get up… He begged his wounded muscles to comply. Get up! You must! The prize of the victor…trumps the torture of the fight! He desperately recited the lectures that had been drilled into his mind for years. Weakness leads to failure, and failure to dishonor. Do not let them see your weakness! All to no avail, however strong his determination, the burgeoning physical anguish of reality weakened his loyal volition and ultimately seized full control over him.

     Darkness skulked around the edges of his eyes, stalking his mind and blurring his damaged vision. Its cold shadow began to drift over him, engulfing him in its wake; like a menacing, yet somehow comfortable, cloak of somnolence that quieted the piercing screech and soothed the crippling pain, slowly fading it all into memory.

     Memory. The haze of fleeting moments from the past clouded his thoughts and regurgitated themselves into his vision. No longer did he feel himself experiencing the present (older, lying on the ground, bleeding to death) rather in his numbed mind there flowed this sense of remembered fear; irrational and uncontrolled. The images were extremely limited and even the noise had become garbled with age, but the memory and visage of childhood pain chained to it remained clear as day.

     He was a mere toddler; the world had only known him for two years at most. There was an increasing black shadow all around him. (The darkness had always been there to surround him, even at such a young age, and though he feared it, somehow, he knew it would never cease to follow him.)

     He had been roughly tossed into a cramped storage space and locked away for unsupervised containment. He blinked in staggered movements, trying desperately to clear out the blindness from his puerile sight. Frustration and incomprehensible reasoning as to why he had been shoved so angrily into this blank room brought hot tears to his big green eyes and he could feel a raging scream building up within his tiny throat. However, the terrible noises from outside stayed his outburst as they gradually became louder and full of dangerous fury.

     “What the hell were you thinking!?” It was a woman’s voice; sounding as if she was poised to kill. “Who do you think you are, bringing that-that illegitimate cur into this household!?”

     “I have to!” A man answered. The tone of his words held no kind of apology. No sense of want for forgiveness. “We can’t just leave him running around the community wearing _my_ face and-”

     “And _her_ hair!?” The woman sunk her teeth into his excuse. “Do tell, did your lovely mistress have flaming red hair!?” Her words were cold and cut with a sharp edge of sarcasm. “How do you propose to hide _that_ from the public, Brendol, when I - _your_ _wife_ , have never been a shade lighter than black!?”

     A terrifying growl emanated from the man and he raised his voice into an even louder yell. “Are you fool enough to believe that physical traits are passed on only through the female’s contribution!? _My_ hair color is light!”

     She snapped her eyes away from him and clicked her tongue. “Not of that intensity.”

     He clenched his fists and trembled with anger. “It is enough to pass unnoticed! I will not have anyone question this matter, less they be severely punished! And that goes just as well for you!”

     The rumble of his boot smacking the floor startled the baby in the closet.

     “It is absolutely laughable how you expect me to rear this child when you treat me in such a way!”

     Her voice never wavered, and her teeth -the boy could tell, were now clenched and grinding.

     “I’ve been nothing if not good and faithful to you through all these years! And this is what I get for that hardship?”

     There was that quaking stomp again.

     “I’m not ‘expecting’ you to accept this burden, Maratelle, I am commanding that you do so!”

     The child had had enough. Enough of the screaming, enough of the darkness, enough of the fear. He stood on shaking chubby legs and lunged himself at the locked door. Slapping his soft hands against the surface in rhythmic chaos, he burbled and blathered angry profanity in his infantile dialect. He must become louder than the two involved in their verbal combat if there was going to be an end to it.

     He had to have succeeded, for not a moment longer, there came a painfully loud bang on the other side of the closet door that sent the toddler screaming to the floor.

     “Shut up in there! I’ll deal with you later!” The man’s fuming voice was so close and loud; the sheer vibration of it struck a defining fear into the child’s very soul.

     He sat up in the thick suffocating shadow and freely let the tears fall. They streamed down his face and dripped from his quivering chin. Suddenly, another petrifying slam froze his little heart, making him cry even harder.

     “I said quiet!”

     “What am I supposed to call him, Brendol?”

     Through his blubbering, the boy could hear that the woman’s voice had calmed a bit but was still just as icy.

     “Surely, you were not fool enough to give away your title to such a disgrace before we’ve conceived a true heir.”

     “Of course not!” His raging voice decreased in volume as he was pulled away from the door -the only positive aspect that had come of this argument. “He’ll have to take my surname, that point is unavoidable. Honestly, Maratelle, I don’t care what you call him behind closed doors, but I’ve named him ‘Armitage’ for the public.”

     There came an audible sigh. No doubt born from the thought of having to appear in public with the child. “How repulsive.”

     His frightful tears had begun to dry, and the innocent shine returned to his eyes by the time the argument had ceased, and he was regretfully released from the binding prison.

**\------**

     A blur of distant rumbling and gunfire resonated from somewhere above him, but the unconscious darkness in all its persistence continued to fill his senses and paralyze his body. A faint feeling of warm wetness had found its way down to his shoulder and was slowly seeping into his gray uniform.

     In attempt to block out the burgeoning pain, his mind took the form of a second memory from another time in his tragic past.

**\------**

     _“Armitage!”_

     It had been five years since he was introduced into the woman’s house, and what a dreadful time it had been. Maratelle, or “Madame” as he was instructed to call her, (never mother) found immense joy in finding difficult little tasks for the redheaded boy to do that would likely take up all the hours of his day. Whether it was to keep his fast-paced attention span busied, or just to make him miserable he did not know, but whichever it was, she did it with such cold-heartedness that he felt it was most likely to be the latter.

     Ever since she had given in to caring for him, she openly treated him as a simple placeholder until her own child came along; her _real_ son, as she so often called it. And it was made crystal clear to the little ginger boy that she felt no obligation in constantly reminding him of that fact.

     The jobs she had him do would range from trivial matters, such as bringing her wine in a tall glass (without spilling), to the grueling work of collecting the rain buckets that served as their water source. He was indeed her slave and with no experience in any other way of life, he obeyed her unconditionally. Stupidly. Almost happy to do it.

     Lately, however, the chores had become more strenuous and horribly taxing. The hope of maybe being praised or rewarded for his efforts had fueled his loyal optimism in the past, but even that seemed to be dwindling now. For the woman had grown lazy over the course of several months. Her belly had expanded, the boy noticed with concern, and she almost never left her bedroom. She’d turned into a very unattractive beast indeed. Her moods became unpredictable. One moment she was content in ordering the boy around and then not a second would go by and she’d be screaming at him for something; even when he was following her exact directions. 

     And now, she was summoning him again.

     _“Armitage!”_

     He could only imagine what she possibly needed from him now. The seven-year-old bit down hard on his tongue so as not to answer her with an impatient growl and clenched his fists as he left his cold breakfast for the sixth time that morning. “Madame?” He slowly wrapped his head around the door frame, almost afraid to look inside for her tone held traces of black ire.

     “How dare you make me have to call for you twice, you disgraceful little monster!” She stared down at him for a good while, letting her insult sink in.

     His thin shoulders slumped and as he looked up, he could tell that her disgusted glower had settled on his mop of messy red hair. “I apologize.” His voice shook, and it sounded barely above a whisper. “I will try harder to be faster next time, Ma’am.”

     “You’ll try harder…” She mocked him with a scoff and her eyes narrowed, doubting the boy’s sincerity.

     Suddenly, the woman wrenched her head backward and cried out.

     The child staggered back a few steps -seeing someone else in pain always made him uncomfortable at that age. “Are you alright?” He cried as he watched in horror as she writhed. Realizing right away that she most definitely was not.

     “Come over here!” The woman squawked at him through clenched teeth as she trembled with the oncoming waves of agony.

     He took hesitant steps and as soon as he was within reach, she shot her hand out, grabbed him roughly by the neck, and pulled him to the edge of the bed; squeezing a small yelp from his now aching throat.

     “Go and call the Academy! Talk to one of the officers and have them page your father!” She moaned loudly and let go of his neck to run her hand over her rounded stomach. “Tell… Tell them that it is urgent, the baby is coming and that he must get back here immediately!”

     “Father doesn’t let me use the holopad…he yells if I go near it…and what baby!?”

     His youthful ignorance annoyed Maratelle to a point beyond comprehension and with the pain of going into labor, her patience was nonexistent. “Do not undermine my authority! Just do as you are told!” She swiped the back of her hand across his bony cheek, punctuating her command with a painful slap. “Go! Now!”

     Slightly stunned from her outburst of violence, he blinked away the rising tears framing his eyes; knowing that it was always best not to let her see his emotional weakness. Biting his cheek to remain in control, he ran from her and into his father’s office; a place where he had been forbidden to enter.

     Hesitantly, he rummaged around the desk looking for the communication device. The lingering pain from Maratelle’s slap had turned his pale face a deep shade of scarlet and he could no longer muster the strength to hold back his tears.

     He was a blubbering sniveling mess once he’d finally found the holopad. Managing, not without frustration, to turn it on and contact the correct channel, he tried to wipe away his emotions before he spoke to anyone.

     Alas, the conversation between officer and boy went on with terrible confusion. Aside from the fact that his voice was distorted by tears, the petty officer had never seen the child before. Commandant Brendol Hux had thought it unwise to display his illegitimate son to the world and had done his best to keep him hidden.

     Until now.

     “Who are you!? How did you decipher the com code?” The angered officer growled at the small wavering blue child.

     “I-I My name is…is… Armitage Hux and I need to talk to my father! P-Please, sir, Madame Maratelle says… that it is …u-urgent!” The words were hardly intelligible, but the message was received despite his youthful mumbling. 

     With his questions gone unanswered, the officer scribbled down what he could make out on a digital notepad: _Armitage. Hux. Urgent. Father._

     Instantly, the man reached out to slam his hand down on a large glowing button, sending a vibration via remote which acted as a summons to the regal Commandant.

     The terrified boy stood alone in his father’s private room shaking with the anticipation of relaying the message to the man when surely, the entirety of his rage would be unleashed before one word could be uttered.

     “What is the meaning of this, Armitage!” Brendol Hux, however miniaturized in his holographic appearance, was no less intimidating. His deep voice boomed with fury and he spit his son’s name out as if it left a bitter taste on his tongue. “I told you never to enter my office! Where is Maratelle!? Why is she not disciplining you, despicable wretch!?”

     The young boy physically choked on his fear of the man. His eyes widened, making room for more burning tears and he wished with all his mind that he could forget the entire matter and go back to eating his breakfast. “Father!” He interrupted the man’s ranting with a fear-filled screech. “It’s Maratelle who told me to use the holopad!”

     “Impudent cur! You do not use the first name of your superiors! You shall call her Madame! Do you hear me!?”

     Armitage sighed and wiped the tears away from his raw face. “Yes sir! I am sorry, sir!”

     “Don’t apologize! Never apologize to anyone, _Armitage!”_ There was his name sounding like a curse word again. “Only listen to what your commanders tell you and silently adjust your offensive notions!”

     The boy blinked in confusion. Somehow his father had thought this to be a time for a lesson, as if it were not a crisis! “Yes, sir, sorry.”

     The man grumbled.

     “But you must come home quickly! Madame needs you… she… she I think she is dying!” His eyes were beginning to well up again and his voice wavered.

     There was a short silence. “Tell her I’ll be right there. And for God’s sake, boy, stop crying! It is truly degrading for the Commandant to have a son that so easily shows his weakness!”

     With that, the blue model of the angry man flickered and was gone. Armitage carefully replaced the holopad back to where he’d found it and slipped out of the room. He could hear Maratelle’s painful cries coming from the hall and it caused him to wholly lose his appetite. “Father is coming, Madame.” His timid voice barely caught her attention and she groaned loudly in response.

     The thought of remaining in the house and having to listen in as the woman met her end twisted his stomach into an irreversible knot. Instead, the young boy with the bright red hair abandoned his meal bowl and stepped outside. He winced slightly as the seasonally frigid rain fell like needles upon his skin; instantly drenching him.

     The rest of the memory had become very foggy from that point forward and vaguely he remembered that night being one of the most dreadful moments of his life. Screaming, cursing, crying, with a grand finale that resulted in the birth of his first enemy: A little girl named Woollahra Evina Hux.

 


	2. The Underdog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of short. Sorry guys... but I do plan to make very frequent updates!  
> I think its time for Armitage to wake up. How 'bout you?

     The curtain of darkness that had pinned his thin body to the ground was slowly beginning to lift. His green eyes fluttered, and he could feel his arms again as he made another desperate attempt to move them. Gripping the harsh rocks beneath his pulsing chest, his hands shook violently. Get up! His mind reeled. The adrenaline was rapidly being swept away by a vicious force of terrible lingering pain.

     _“Armitage!”_

There was that blasted name again! Oh, how he hated it! Through the fog of dim consciousness and over the piercing ring, he still could hear a voice in the air swearing at him with the use of his name.

     _“Armitage...Get up!... You are still in this! Armitage!”_

It was a voice that held a tone of abrasive command, but if one could break through the militant hardness one would undoubtedly find traces of admiration and warmth buried within its core.

     It was of no matter to him who the high-pitched voice belonged to, though he could tell right away that it was his horrid sister with the way she was overusing that curse word. With all his might, he opened his eyes and gasped outwardly with the wave of nauseating pain that came of the effort.

     The rain pierced his sight and stunned his brain. Of course, it was always raining on this blasted planet! Today, however, seemed to be a particularly heavy downpour. His gaze shifted to the ground. A blur of people running by, the mud being kicked up from their boots, all of them frantic to find cover from the storm of blue blaster bolts flying around them. All of it…was complete unadulterated chaos.

     It was then when he realized exactly what was happening. Finally awakening from his comatose state, he remembered the Academy, his seven years of vigorous training, and the combat scrimmage that had begun that morning.

     _“Armitage!”_

     His eyes rolled upwards and through the steady stream of blood, gushing from an open wound on his forehead, he could see the frightened and ridiculously girlish face of his rival. He grit his teeth, drawing in a sharp breath and let it explode in a cry of pain as she wrapped her hands around his ankle and tugged furiously.

     “I can’t pull you! You’ve got to help me, Armitage, you’re too heavy!” Woollahra groaned, her small grip was slipping from the sweat and rain. She had thrown down her blaster -which had been switched to stun as a rule, into the mud as she desperately tried to drag her brother back to safety.

     It had been terribly difficult, watching from her place of cover as Armitage rushed the “enemy” line and stumbled over the wire connected to the well-hidden ion mine. She had to bite her lip not to cry out as the mound blew. The difficulty she felt was not for his inevitable pain though, it was from the amount of self-discipline it had taken to still her tongue against warning him of the danger; and the cry that would have bellowed out of her would have been one of triumphant joy.

     She knew without a doubt that the Commandant, their father, was examining her closely in this play battle, and all she needed to further her ascension amongst the ranks was a moment of true glory. An opportunity of heroism. A way to prove her worthiness that would allow her to remain an asset to the Officer’s Academy. A moment of which had graciously been served and presented to her on a silver platter by her elder brother’s own bullheaded stupidity.

     She dug her fingernails into the older boy’s skin and ripped at his clothing in attempt to move him. Unfortunately, he was dead weight, and being several years older than herself, his body was significantly larger. Struggling, she tore at his jodhpur boot and grunted. A sudden fear of failure had begun to creep into her mind. This act was too important to be denied by such a simple thing as strength; or lack thereof.

     When he felt the distinctive drag of his boot being yanked from his foot, Armitage growled and worked to flip himself over. “Get off!” His voice broke with the yell of rage; quite an embarrassing event that never failed to happen when he knew his father was observing his every move. The pain was nearly unbearable, but gritting his teeth, he reached out with his free leg and crushed the girl’s fingers. “Let go of me!” Again, why couldn’t his voice remain deep and masculine while under stress?

     “Ow!” Woollahra refused to drop his foot, instead she returned fire, balling up her fist and thrusting it into his long shin bone. “I’m trying to help you, idiot! If you would just get up! I have a dugout that we must get to!” She pointed to a large rough rock and winced as he continued to kick at her grasp.

     “Leave me alone! I don’t need assistance from a filthy whelp who can’t bear to pry her own lips from the Commandant’s rear end!”

     “You do too, Armitage!” She bit her cheek and gave it her all not to let his biting words have any sort of effect upon her mind. “You just stepped on a mine, in case you didn’t realize! You just got blown up! You…” She knew that the next few words were going to strike a raw nerve, but she couldn’t stop them from pouring out. “You failed the test! Father has already stamped your file with a huge red ‘X’. I _saw_ him do it… while I saw him put a check on _my_ name.” The act of lying was frowned upon in the Hux family household and was harshly reprimandable, but there had never been a law made against mixing truths; and this talent had quickly become the girl’s forte.

     A pulsating scarlet haze blurred his vision and the excruciating pain from his injuries vanished as pure rage pumped through his veins. Instantly, he was standing, with his fists clenched tightly by his sides. “You rotten little…” His voice cracked again as he shamelessly christened his baby sister with an appalling title in all its atrocious, vulgar glory. “I wish you’d never been born! My life might have been tolerable if you hadn’t been alive!”

     Woollahra could feel the tears rising in her throat, but she swallowed them in angry defiance. She stepped closer, sizing him up even though her head only came to his shoulders. “You know that’s funny, Armitage! I just heard Mother say those exact words this morning, but about _you!”_ Her black eyebrows knitted. “Oh, pardon me, I mean Ms. Mme. Mrs. Hux.” She cocked her head and raised her voice in sarcasm. “I know you’ll be confused if I call her mother since she is not yours!”

     Without warning, a terribly powerful force crashed against her chest and with it an untamed yell of rage. Dull pain burst from within her skin as she felt her brother’s sweaty palm suddenly shove her off balance. Letting out a shrill scream, the young girl found herself on the ground, staring up at his tall shaking form.

     Somehow, with speed none short of lightning, he had snatched her own blaster from its muddy grave and trained the barrel directly at her; settling the iron sights only inches away from her stained face. At point-blank range, even with the plasma set to stun, the damaging effect of a shot would be catastrophic and deadly.

     Panting hard and trembling from this sudden exertion of pent up fury, he stared into the frightful eyes of the girl at his feet, giving her nothing but a glare of festering hatred as the rain water sprayed from his seething teeth. It was only then when he noticed her stare shift and began to follow her alarmed gaze leading to the blaster’s mechanics.

     Swallowing hard, Woollahra let a childlike whimper slip as she fixated her eyes on the finger that was slowly turning white from the pressure he forced upon the trigger.

     Armitage, letting out an explosive breath as he realized in shock the thing he had almost just accomplished, released his iron grip on the pistol and quickly tossed it away. “You are lucky that mud flooded the battery and drained the charge, girl.” His voice was eerily calm, and a momentary smirk flashed across his cheeks.

     “I hate you!” She squealed as the tears leaked uncontrollably from her bright eyes. Her nostrils flared as she breathed desperately to still her pounding heartbeat.

     “Good!” He turned away from her, feeling the wave of pain throbbing from his wounds again in full force. “The feeling is mutual I assure you. At least now we have something in common.” He winced sharply as he noticed the pattern of shrapnel and gravel that graced the entire left side of his body.

     Soon after, a blaring alarm announced the widely anticipated cease fire and the regime of cadets, wounded and unharmed, formed an orderly line across the tattered battlefield.

     “Attention!”

    The robotic command from a ruthless servant droid dominated the air, forcing all to push away the pain and exhaustion and stand erect with hands squeezed tightly behind as the Commandant entered the field.

     Brendol Hux had indeed mastered the art of intimidation, and he easily instilled fear within the hearts of his troop with every footstep that brought him closer. He coolly threatened each man with a steely glare before beginning the inspection as if it were a form of amusement that he simply could not live without.

     Armitage shook from the cold downpour and from his intolerable pain, but disciplined his body to bury the weakness and stare directly ahead. Just listening to the voice of his father coming closer as he fulfilled his duties caused nervous flutters to surge through his veins.

     “Up.” The Commandant examined a short cadet’s neck as he obeyed the command by raising his chin. Hux took two fingers and rubbed them downward over a swelling scarlet lump. He noticed the cadet’s half-hidden wince and removed his hand. “Report to medical.”

     “Sir, yes, sir!” The pained soldier lowered his head and saluted the man.

     Moving to the next man in line, Brendol checked him over quickly, squeezed an obvious fracture within his arm, and waved him off with a similar diagnosis.

     Minutes of this went on until the stiff Commandant found himself standing before his own kin. He had decided years ago that his children would never see any kind of special treatment when it came time to train in the Academy.

     “Father.” Woollahra greeted the man with a quiet nod and salute.

     He swatted her hand away with a leather riding crop. “Plebes will remain silent in ranks!” His voice was just as harsh as ever, but his eyes softened with enough significance to implant jealousy amongst the regime. He wiped the splatter of blood from her face, making sure it was not her own, and walked around back of her. He snorted at the excessive amount of mud discoloring her white uniform and gave a short glance of irritation to the adjacent cadet: Armitage.

     After finding his way back to face the line, the Commandant nodded at the girl. “Go take a shower and then return to your barracks to wait for the official report.”

     “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” She could not help but grin and gazed up at her brother with a look of deep satisfaction; to which he returned an envious sneer.

     It was his turn. Finally. Armitage straightened his back; his confidence growing along with his stature. Shooting up to become almost eye-level with the Commandant over the past few months had given him a sense of great natural achievement. He stared into the cold hard face of the man and swallowed. What would he say in the report? Had he passed the test? Surely, the incident with the explosion was…unfortunate, but perhaps the acute accuracy and boldness he had demonstrated during the conflict would trump his mistake. It was truly his dream to one day bestow honor upon his name and earn his father’s praise.

     The man glared, looking the boy up and down. He smirked devilishly at the torn and bloodied state of his ruined uniform. Roughly, he pressed the tip of his riding crop against his son’s injured cheek and turned his head. Red oozing blood continued to seep out around the pieces of sharp metal protruding from his skin. “Failed to detect an obvious mine, did we?”

     Armitage’s clenched jaw twitched as he heard his sister’s girlish snickering to his right before he answered the man. “A slight miscalculation, sir, it won’t happen again.”

     “Of course it will, boy, don’t flatter yourself.” Circling his son like a vulture, he picked at a jagged piece of shrapnel imbedded in the young man’s temple and viciously ripped it out.

     Wincing, he swallowed a scream and waited patiently for the inspection to cease. He watched as the Commandant returned to face him and opened his mouth to instruct. _Medical…_ Armitage thought. It was the only logical punctuation to the examination, given his critical condition.

     The Commandant’s eyes narrowed, and he clicked his tongue as he pulled back. “Shower and report to your barracks.” Without so much as another glance, he moved on to the next man in line.

     Instant shock caused his heart to throb. “But, sir!” Armitage gulped as he found himself blurting out loud. “Surely, my injuries require immediate attention! Shall I go to medical?” Leaning forward, he disrupted the order in ranks.

     Brendol Hux stiffened and spoke without turning his back. “You’ve just earned yourself fifty laps on the obstacle course for speaking without permission, Cadet.”

     “Yes, sir, I only meant that my wounds seem to be more serious than the others that you already sent to Med.” Armitage slumped backward and cursed himself for opening his mouth.

     The man wrung his riding crop through clenched fists and snarled. “If you cannot muster the strength to endure such minimal pain, Armitage, then you shall be put out of your misery at dusk, will that help to put your mind at ease?”

     All eyes widened and settled on the red-headed cadet.

     He trembled terribly and swallowed a dry gulp. “No, sir, do forgive me, sir.”

     “Shower and report!” The bitter command was given to the boy next to him as his father continued the inspection without another word on the matter.

     Soon enough, the exam ended, and the regime was split into two separate groups; prepared to march to the destination as had been previously instructed.

     “Company, double time march!” The harsh servant droid, DDM-38, organized the troop and directed their pace.

     Through the passing blob of jogging bodies, Brendol spied his son and seized him by the arm; ripping him from the troop. “Come here you little snake!” Twisting the boy around by the collar and throwing a gloved finger into his face, the man stared him down with a burning hatred in his eyes; making it utterly impossible for Armitage to meet his gaze. “I saw what you did to her, boy! I watched you turn that blaster on my daughter!”

     The young cadet struggled to conceal a blanch of horror that drained his cheeks of what little color they held, and he stared at the ground in paralyzing fear. His heart jumped into his throat as the Commandant continued.

     Feeling the shocked and judgmental eyes of his colleagues surrounding him, Brendol loosened his grip and stood the cadet back up on his feet. “I will deal with you later tonight after the girl has gone to bed.” With that, he threw him away and pointed to the bouncing group that had carelessly abandoned the boy without the slightest hesitation. “Go. Get out of my sight!”

     As he scurried to catch up with the troop, Armitage rubbed away the lingering feel of his father’s hand around his throat; coughing several times to coax his voice to return. It was not long before he was joined by Woollahra and her overbearing, annoying, toothy smile.

     “Tough break, Armitage.” She jogged alongside and surprisingly kept up his pace. Most likely it was due to the fact of his extensive injuries.

     “Will you stop calling me that!?” He felt as if his entire left side was dragging and the pulsing ache that came with every step wore him down quickly.

     “What? Armitage?” Her nose scrunched with the question.

     The girl’s voice grated across his ears and he wondered why… what had he done that was so terrible to have to be punished with a sister such as she.

     “But Armitage is your name, stupid.” She laughed loudly. “Am I supposed to call you something else? You won’t like the substitutes I have picked out either, trust me.”

     The boy growled deep in his throat. “How about you don’t call me anything. How about you leave me alone!?”

     _Mmm…_ She hummed in a greatly patronizing tone. “Nope. We live too close together for that. I’ve been around for ten years, Armitage, and plan to stick around for a lot more. You’re just going to have to get used to the idea of having me as a sister.” She playfully punched him on the arm making him flinch.

     They broke away from each other as they approached the bathing precinct.

     Knowing that their father was far out of sight, Woollahra felt at ease to give into her girlish whims and skipped across the path, entering the female side of the building with grace and excitement.

     Armitage shook his head and scoffed. What a truly disgusting hindrance to the Empire… “She’ll never make an Imperial officer.” He entered under the male sign and sighed impatiently as he stood at the back of a slow-moving line.

     Two minutes. That was all the time allowed to wash away the grime of war.

     Armitage prepared his mind to work in haste. Despite the pain, he had to act quickly in removing and washing out the remnants of that blasted ion mine. Knowing from mortifying experience that the officer attending the refresher payed strict attention to the time limit and held absolutely no shame in physically removing an offender from the building, he stripped at light speed and turned on the shower; not wasting one second in waiting for the warmth to build.

     The freezing stream stung his open cuts and burned through his sodden skin. The puddle at his feet instantly turned pink and the sound of metal clattering to the floor echoed through the room as he ripped and pulled at the shrapnel. He forced himself not to cry out as the metal corks were twisted from his skin; naturally the bleeding worsened with their removal. _Medical should really be the ones to do this…_ His mind reeled, and he bit down hard on his cheek to mute his moans of agony.

     “Fifty seconds, Hux!” The attendant was staring down at his timer. “Finish up and towel off!”

     Armitage had only begun to tug on the final fragment, which felt as if it were ten inches long as it dug deeper into his bicep with every movement he made, when the officer’s yell reached his ears. Taking the warning very seriously, he turned the water off -which never mustered the decency to grow warmer than forty degrees, and swiftly wrapped himself in a scratchy, white towel.

     Moments later, a whistle was blown, and the next body entered the shower stall.

     Bloody water continued to drip down his nose and chin as he silently snatched a fresh uniform from the organized shelves and dressed without bothering to wipe his face. It was still raining outside, and there was just no point in drying what was soon to be drenched again, he thought to himself as he pulled on his old boots and left the washhouse.

     He watched with loathing eyes as young men and women, grouped by age and rank, marched in an orderly manner back to the barracks as required; like dogs on command.

     Following his father’s precise orders was usually top priority in his mind, wanting so badly to please him, but not this night. No, there was only one place on the entire planet where he desired to be, and it was surely not some cramped co-ed housing unit filled with cranky, tired, wounded, and haughty cadets awaiting a report that he knew was already marked down as another failure.

     Armitage glanced around, scanning for spies, then hurried down a dark path leading away from the Academy grounds.

     Tossing a rock into the air and catching it as she waited for Armitage to emerge, Woollahra had seated herself under the comforting overhang attached to the common area. She stood the instant he appeared and watched her brother’s lithe figure disappear into the woods. With a devious smirk creeping across her cheeks, she decided to follow him in secret.

     Wild plants with damp dripping leaves relentlessly slapped her in the face as she hurried along the tangled route after the determined boy. How was it possible that he could keep such a fast pace despite all those staggering injuries? She was panting hard and had become soaked in sweat again by the time he stopped running.

     The young girl ducked behind a rain-beaten flower bush and scrunched herself into a ball. Trying to regulate her breathing while remaining hidden, she took deep gulps of air and held them in for a few seconds before releasing. It brought a smile to her face to see that Armitage had become just as winded during his rush, and he bent over, placing his hands on his knees for support as he puffed.

     Woollahra followed his movements in silence and drew closer to the clearing which served as a yard. She heard him clear his throat as he approached the porch; oozing with all the confidence and charismatic charm a boy his age could muster. Her green eyes narrowed as her suspicious mind widened. “Just _who_ exactly are you visiting tonight, Armitage, and why is it such a secret?” She never permitted her voice to leave her mind and she glared at her brother as he softly clashed his knuckles against the door.    

     After the fifth knock, the door promptly swung inward and the boy smiled warmly at the person inside. 

     “Oh, it’s you!”     

     Woollahra could tell right away that the voice was female, but the initial shock of a confirmed scandal died away when she heard every word become distorted with a sweet warble that evolves with increasing age.

     “She didn’t think you would make it tonight; none of us did. Not with the way that horrible explosion treated you.”

     The girl’s dark eyebrows knitted as the conversation continued. Who _were_ these people? She? Armitage has a she? Who would ever? How did they meet? Why didn’t he ever mention her? She almost gave away her position as the thought of her brother falling in love tickled her mind.

     The young man lowered his eyes to the floor and shuffled his feet in embarrassment as his neck turned red. “Yes, well, I shouldn’t like to think I’d let such a trivial matter such as death stop me from seeing her and enjoying a hot meal.”

     The old woman giggled. “Such wit. Well come inside! For goodness sake, child, you’re soaked clear to the bone. She’ll be delighted to see you safe and…somewhat sound.”

     The wave of a wrinkled hand that settled on his right shoulder was the last movement to grace Woollahra’s gaze before Armitage laughed at her joke and disappeared inside.

 


	3. A Place to Belong

     Immediately after entering, the elderly woman handed Armitage a fresh smelling towel and offered him the comfort of a soft cushioned chair. “I’ll go tell her the good news that you’re here.”

     “Thank you.” Armitage’s heart fluttered as he rubbed away the rain and blood from his vibrant hair. Love was a strange feeling indeed. Throughout his childhood, the sensation was never explained to him or even mentioned. No, it was not until he had met _her_ that love had been introduced and allowed to dramatically influence his life.

     Moments later, his ears pricked to hear a lovely gasp of relief and excitement resonate from the room upstairs. That pulse of exhilaration was always contagious, and the elated feeling coursed through his veins as the sound of rapid light footsteps scattered down the stairs.

     “Darling! I was so worried!”

     Armitage stood with respect, barely noticing how wide his grin had become, and took in the wonderful sight before him.

     The woman was short, the apron she wore flopped down to meet her ankles, but was a necessary item to identify her as a stationed kitchen worker. Her tear-stained face was red and swollen, but the love that sparkled within her eyes gave him a feeling of pure joy and she rushed over not caring about wetting her socks in the puddles the boy had tracked in.

     He opened his aching arms and closed his eyes as she gleefully snuggled into his hold; wrapping her own around his back.

     “We had heard about the battle!” However muffled with lingering tears, her voice continued to burst with gladness.

     “It was only a simulation.” He hummed quietly as she reached up and stroked the smooth side of his face.

     “Simulations are when you are hooked up to a console that is programed to teach, not test your skills of survival.” She let go of him and stood back; looking on him with pride and dignity. “Darling, I thought…” Her voice wavered, and she turned away.

     Armitage sighed and touched her chin ever so gently.

     The woman blinked rapidly and gave him a shaky smile. “I just couldn’t bear to lose you again.”

     “Oh, Mother,” He leaned downward and kissed her soggy cheek with a sweetness that she alone had taught him. “I’ll make it my personal business to see that you don’t.”

     She turned to flash another contagious smile at him, looking just as beautiful as ever, with her sparkling brown eyes bringing him a sense of safety and comfort greater than he had ever known.

     “What is all this!?” She gestured to his facial wounds being sure not to cause him pain by touching them. “Doesn’t the corps have a doctor on sight during your trials?”

     Armitage shook his head with a smirk. “No, the Commandant decided it was nothing but a scratch.”

     “Well that man has never been one for honesty, in my opinion; nor has he the patience to muster the use of brainpower.”

     He scoffed in comedic agreement and glanced to the floor.

     “Come, Darling, let’s get you fixed up.” She glided gracefully to a small kitchen and rummaged through a Cherrywood cupboard.

     “You must be starved, poor dear.” The old woman that greeted him at the door poked at his middle. “All that running around and fighting…why you are as thin as a wisp.”

     “What is a wisp?” He granted her only a moment of fleeting attention before returning his gaze back to his lovely mother.

     The wrinkled woman shrugged with a laugh. “How about some nice, hot porridge?”

     Defying his command, his stomach lurched at the offer, making a low audible growl. His face flushed, and he drove a fist into his abdomen out of the habit to quiet his desire.

     “I suppose you may take that as a ‘yes’ to the porridge.” The embarrassed boy’s mother chuckled as she returned from the kitchen with a box of medical supplies. “Along with the usual cup of Tarine tea?”

     He nodded happily with a beaming grin at the mention of the delicious beverage. The drink was bitter by nature, yet somehow through sorcery of her own design, his mother never failed to blend the taste until it became sweeter than honey. However, she would never explain how she did it. It didn’t matter how many times he asked about her recipe, how much he begged, the answer would always remain the same: A smile of silence, followed by an endearing denial riddled with giggles.

     “That information is a family secret that only our most privileged females are privy to.”

     It was a simple answer, and even though he wanted so desperately to learn the trick, he accepted his restriction willingly.

     He watched in pure admiration as she bustled about, brewing the pot and stoking the oven fires. All the while wearing that proud smile across her cheeks. He loved the way her hair tossed and furled about as she paced around the cooking area.

     That hair…that thick, long orange hair, so like his own. Armitage sighed as the flood of memory washed over his mind, recalling the first time he had set eyes on those bright bouncing locks; except back then they were not as beautiful or free. They had to be bound up tightly with three sharp pins; as required for a woman chained to her position in the kitchen mess hall. He remembered it just as vividly as if it were yesterday; he was so young, so gullible and naive.

     It happened when he was close to Woollahra’s age, or perhaps a bit younger…whichever the truth was did not matter, for he knew that even in those early years the memory of such an excruciating incident would never leave him.

     The day had been going well, oddly enough. The weather, in an apparent fluke, had granted a break from the heavy storms and subsided into a light, ever-constant drizzle.

     Starting off with a rough morning was not uncommon, and with the new baby toddling around the house, ruling over them with her shrill demands, waking them at all hours and draining their bodies of energy, family tension was higher than ever. But Armitage was beginning to become immune to his father’s cold shoulder and his adoptive mother’s harsh remarks. Today, it seemed impossible to disappoint him. Life with all its tribulation and condemnation proved incapable of bringing him down from his high of elation.

     The young boy’s smile that lit up his soft face had first appeared the moment he pulled on a light gray trainee uniform that his father had given him merely hours before orientation. It was his very first day at the Academy and he wanted to look his best. The boy stood before a smooth mirror and repeatedly stroked his red mop. Making sure that every hair was in its proper place, despite how desperately it needed to be trimmed, he tucked each end behind his ears and brushed the strands out of his eyes.

     “Armitage! I’ve never once been late to begin classes and if that record is broken because of your tardiness, I will be forced to disown you!”

     The frustrated voice of his father downstairs sent excited shivers down his spine and the child’s grin grew wider. “Coming, Father!” He barreled out the door and flew down the staircase. His hair quickly became a mess again with his haste, but the thought of finally earning his stripes and rising rapidly through the ranks, following in the great commandant’s footsteps, thrilled the boy to no bounds. He marveled at the possibility to present honor to his father’s eye and that the man may even grow to be proud of his son’s achievements.

     Alas, as the day pressed on, this ambitious destiny had only been pushed further out of his reach. The boy’s introduction to the program was nowhere close to what he had imagined it to be. Going into it, he thought that he would’ve been at his father’s side the entire time, but immediately upon their arrival, the commandant brought him to a room -filled with boys and girls who were years older than him, sat him down at a chair with a desk and left him alone. Armitage did not see his father again (except on a film reel for training purposes) until the end of the day when the horrible accident occurred.

     The written work attached to the lessons were grueling tasks indeed. After each confusing lecture, stuffed to the brim with vocabulary he could not decipher and was not allowed to ask the clarification of, a test was given in which all the questions were to be answered and presented to the class within the hour; to no surprise, the young redhead failed miserably. In punishment he was aptly scolded by the professor and shamed by his fellow learners.

     Although, the worst of it all was not his time spent sitting in classes or the lectures, not even the vigorous exercises on the obstacle course. No, the true moments of dread came with the down time when the regime of cadets were allowed to roam free as long as they remained on the Academy grounds.

     Dusk was approaching rapidly, and this was the final session of free time before the day ended. All the excitement and joy that had clouded his mind at the start of the day had forsaken him long ago. Armitage felt as if he were on the verge of tears as he stood alone in the soft rain, watching and waiting for his father to save him from this living hell. He never ventured far from the door and made sure to huddle close to the outdoor weapon rack, so he could study its display of blades and rifles in hopes to impress his teachers with his knowledge and determination.

     “Look! There he is!”

     The young boy sniffed and craned his neck to see the grinning faces on a group of approaching teenagers. Instantly, they surrounded him, leaving no escape routes.

     “Little _Armitage Hux,_ the Commandant’s pride and joy.” One of the rough looking boys sneered.

     “Not much to look at is there?” Another tall boy laughed. “What’s the matter, Shorty? Daddy and Mommy don’t love you? Didn’t they tell you that you’re a birth reject?” He gladly accepted pats of approval from his comrades. “Rumor has it that you don’t even have a real mother!”

     Armitage winced and turned away from the bullies. “Leave me alone.” His high-pitched voice crumbled with growing emotion.

     “Why? Does that hurt your feelings? Are you going to cry!?” The voice belonged to a muscular girl who didn’t seem to belong with the group of mean boys. “He’s going to cry!” She guffawed.

     They circled him and began to push lightly on his shoulders.

     “Hey! Why don’t you guys let him be!”

     All heads turned to face the young man who had butted into their fun. 

     “You stay out of this, Tritt!” The first boy yelled. “He needs to learn his place around here! Just because the Commandant’s blood runs through him doesn’t give him any advantage over us!”

     Armitage stared in horror as the cadet who had been his only defense helplessly pursed his mouth and turned away without another word.

     “What’s this!?” The ugly girl grabbed a fist full of his red hair and yanked hard. “Is the color natural?”

     “Why is it so long?”

     The bullies took turns as they hurled insults at him.

     “Makes you look like a girl! Why are you wearing boy’s clothing, Miss _Amy-tage!?”_

     “Where’s your dress, _Amy-tage!?”_

     The roar of laughter and the pain from their rough pulling and shoving overwhelmed his mind and he screeched loudly. “Stop it!” He thrashed his arms, swatting at their hands relentlessly. “I told you to leave me alone!”

     “Oh.” The teenagers mockingly gasped in unison.

     “She’s a feisty one, huh? What are you going to do? Call for Daddy to come and save you? He doesn’t care about you! No one does!” The ringleader glanced back to his friends for a moment before turning back with a vengeance and rammed his hands into Armitage’s chest with such force that it sent him flying backward toward the tall arsenal rack. “Fight back now, Tough guy!”

     The young boy lost his balance and slipped in the mud, tumbling down amongst the sharp weaponry. The sound of the metal blades and rods clattering over the rocks drew the attention of the entire field.

     Intense blinding pain racked his small body making his skin crawl as he felt the pointed edge of a Precision Needle dagger pierce his thigh and slice through the muscle.

     The three older cadets pointed and laughed at him until they could feel the strain in their ribs. “He’s crying! The son of the great Brendol Hux and he is crying! What a weakling! It’s no wonder your father is ashamed of you!”

     Armitage jumped up with a girlish scream of agony, the momentum tearing the blade from his leg as he did, and gasped hoarsely for air as the immense pain caused his throat to swell. He was unable to support himself and he lifted the weight off his injured leg as the hot blood began to gush from his wound and pour down to his ankle.

     The bullies’ eyes reverted to his dampening pant leg and they shouted in amusement for all to hear. “Look! Now he’s wet in his uniform! You’ll never make an officer, Hux! Never!”

     Armitage reached down, wrapping his hands around the gaping jagged hole and whimpered in torment. Salty tears ran down his face and dripped from his chin, in seeming competition with the blood running down his leg and pooling at his feet.

     “What have you done!?” Tritt Opan, the older cadet who had spoken up before, rushed over, plowing through the bullies as he knelt to aid the ginger-haired child.

     “We were only roughing him up a bit.” The tall bully shrugged in annoyance. “But the brat has been pampered and coddled too much to handle it. Proves my point that he doesn’t belong here.”

     Suddenly, Armitage felt a sickening wave of dizziness burst through and seize control of his mind. He swayed slightly and staggered backward. Letting go of his wound, the blood spilled out with concerning speed. The pounding throb of his cascading injury began to subside as a comforting shade of cold darkness squeezed around his eyes, blurring his vision. The bright red puddle under his feet had grown deep within a few seconds and he felt a freezing sensation filling his limbs as his veins drained. Slowly the noise of the world faded into obscurity and he closed his eyes in defeat.

     “Go, you idiots! Go get some help!” Tritt Opan hoisted Armitage into his arms as the wounded boy collapsed. “Alert the Commandant! His femoral artery has been slit open!” Blood sprayed over his arms, spattering across his face and soaking through his uniform as the young man rushed Armitage to the nearest medical facility.

     Faces hovered above. Some were half-hidden by surgical masks, and others without. None of them recognizable, except for one. One person was standing at the back of the room with his hand pressed to his mouth in concern…or was it anticipation?

     Armitage knew this man and reached out to him with a trembling arm. “Father!” His voice was muffled by a plastic anesthetic mask connected to a long tube that had been strapped securely to his head. Pain surged through his body and he lowered his hand. “Father…” His mind numbed again as the waves of black unconsciousness threatened to overtake his graying form.

     Tritt Opan, stood next to the esteemed commandant covered head-to-toe in the young Hux’s blood. He swallowed, breathing hard while he watched helplessly as the doctors struggled to stop the bleeding. “Sir?” In any normal circumstance he would be petrified to be standing so close to the man, let alone attempting to speak with him. But this was not a normal circumstance.

     Brendol turned his head, all the while staying his eyes on the dying boy spread over the table. “What?” His voice was dark, and he sounded impatient.

     Opan gulped. “Sir, you might have to order a transfusion. He’s lost too much blood.” Twisting a dripping sleeve between his fingers, he winced as one of the doctors pulled harshly at a knotted canvas tourniquet that had been wrapped around the base of the boy’s upper thigh. “They are struggling. It might be the only way to save his life.”

     The elder Hux sighed deeply and turned his back on the worried cadet with a reluctant grumble.

     The droid monitor presenting Armitage’s heartrate beeped slowly. Its pace losing speed with every passing second.

     “More oxygen! Now!” One of the masked doctors scrambled.

     Tritt Opan’s eyes widened. “Sir, you must! He’s going to die! Don’t you care!?”

     Brendol’s eyes burned and he turned on the young man with bared teeth. “Learn your place, Cadet! From now on you will not speak unless spoken to!” Grabbing him by the shoulders, he threw him back toward the Med Bay door. “Tell them I order the transfusion! And tell them to bring in the scullery woman! The one who knows me by name!”

     “Scullery woman, Sir?” Tritt Opan was thoroughly confused by the request.

     “Go!” He spit a curse at the teenager and watched in contempt as he ran to deliver the message.

     The echoing beeps woke him from his state of death-like sleep and Armitage allowed his eyes to slit open. A ruckus had taken hold of the orderly hospital room while he had been gone and now there was a new face added to the mix.

     It was a woman. A woman with brown eyes, dirty cheeks, and a plain white apron that came to her knees. However, the most astonishing feature on her person was her hair. Bright flaming orange locks pulled back into a hard bun atop her head made her out to be a most interesting character.

     Armitage’s heart beat faster (as indicated by the noisy monitor) when he noticed their mutual blemish; as his father called it. Why did she get to wear his hair? Until this very moment he had believed without a doubt that he alone had been cursed to display such an atrocity.

     “Hook her up! Quickly! She’s the only one that’s got the same blood type!” The booming voice of Brendol Hux derived immediate action and the short woman was roughly pushed to the operation table.

     The frightened boy watched in drowsy terror as she was brought closer. He blinked as a small yelp of pain leaked from her plump lips when a needle was frantically stabbed into her arm.

    The clear rubber tube connecting the two of them slowly filled with oozing blood and Armitage could feel his stomach turn as he watched it enter his body. To ease his nausea, the boy decided to train his gaze on her fair, balled up mane.

     It did not take long at all for the success of the procedure to take form. With the warmth returning to his veins and the trembling shiver thrust under control, the young boy felt a drastic wave of health engulf his senses.

     The woman who had saved his life breathed slowly as the contraption continued to work. She noticed his stare lingering just above her forehead and smiled. “Everything is going to be alright now, Darling.” Her whisper was barely audible, but she knew he had heard it.

     Nearly three hours had passed since he had arrived at his mother’s dorm. The hot meal, along with the tea, had gown down smoothly. These were the times of comfort that helped him face each coming day. Stolen moments where he could completely unwind, lose his mask of the loyal cadet, and indulge in the unconditional bond of true love that had been formed over his years of sneaking away.

     Armitage was lying sprawled out atop the covers upon his mother’s bed. With his wounds perfectly cleaned and bandaged, he found it possible to regain the sense of contentment needed to relax. Crossing his arms over his chest, he listened with eyes half-lidded as his wonderful mother rhythmically leaned back and forth in her cozy rocking chair; her soft voice lulling him to sleep as she told and retold him the stories of old Imperial heroes. Of how the great Galactic Empire once saved a ravaged galaxy from the eternal destruction of the Clone Wars and brought strict order to chaos. She told him of the lightsaber wielding Jedi Knights in those days and of their mystical ways. Explaining how they had become lazy and unpredictable in their power, and why the noble Sith lord, Darth Vader, rose up with his armies to put an end to it all.

     “Power leads to the corruption of all men, Darling. Beware the temptation it harbors, not even the ancient ones could escape its seductive hand.”

     “Surely, though, it can’t be all bad.” Armitage blinked slowly as the pounding rain aided to send him off to his inevitable slumber. “Power gives you superiority over many, if not all. It brings authority and rule to your grasp. Isn’t that what the Old Empire demonstrated? That the power they dictated proved synonymous with true order?”

      A distant roll of thunder filled the silent air as the woman mulled over his words.

     “It is a great tool. And that is what the Imperial senate employed it as. They harnessed only the crumbs they needed to rule over the galaxy, but no one, not even Emperor Palpatine could tame its full strength. The rush of becoming highly powerful may feel like a wonderful thing, but it can be deceptive.” She stood to take his hand. “In most cases, Darling, complete power is unattainable, but the greed and lust for it never stops, and over time the chase will ultimately destroy all who pursue it.”

     Armitage sighed and looked toward the dark window. The rain tapped relentlessly against the glass; running down the frame like millions of miniature waterfalls. Each stream mindlessly yielding to the order and command of the lead droplet.

     She could tell exactly what ideas were reeling through his mind by the way his green eyes glazed over in want. “The greatest leaders start from humble beginnings.” Bending her back, she gently caressed his forehead, pushing back his bangs, and buried a kiss in his fiery hair. “You have a grand future ahead of you, my Darling, the galaxy could use a man like you to sit on her throne. Just promise me one thing…as you grow into your destiny, you’ll learn to take control over the power you attain. Seize it before it seizes you…don’t let it change who you are inside.”

     Slowly, her words pulled his gaze back to her face and a small smile cracked through his stern visage. A long pause ensued and the coming storm outside grew in ferocity as they stared into each other’s loving eyes. “Just who am I, Mother?” He broke the silence with a question that had plagued him for the entirety of his life.

     “Only concern yourself with the man you will become, Darling.” She noticed his eyebrows twitch in disappointment and stroked his cheek. “But for now, I should say you are a strong, intelligent, handsome, young cadet who is excelling in his training to become an officer to the almighty Empire, but the most wonderful thing about you is that you are mine.” She squeezed him with a long-lasting embrace then returned to her chair; where she eventually fell asleep.

     Armitage woke with a start. His eyes snapping open when a sudden roll of thunder crashed overhead. The incessant thumping within his chest calmed as he glanced around the shadowy room. He let go of the fistful of sheets he didn’t realize he had been squeezing and breathed slowly.

     The soft snoring coming from the sweet woman draped over her rocking chair helped to quiet his raw nerves. He loved the way she unknowingly squished her palm against her cheek in slumber.

     The red-haired boy rubbed at his aching eyes and sat up on the squeaking mattress; throwing his long legs over the side. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in his mother’s bed. He must have just given in to the overwhelming comfort and warmth and dozed off.

     He let his gaze fall to the lovely woman again as he rose in slow motion attempting to remain silent. She was breathing heavily, her pale eyelids fluttering ever so slightly as she dreamed.

     Armitage felt a smile creep across his face and he reached over to pull a fleece from the end of the bed. Stepping closer to adequately cover his mother with the blanket, he leaned down to brush his lips over her soft forehead in a tender goodbye.

     The affection must have awoken her somewhat, for she sleepily reached out a hand to caress his arm for a moment, but then immediately fell limp again.

     That touch. That woman. That love. She meant more to him than the entire galaxy. It was she who had truly taken on the difficult role of parental guidance that had been missing from his life since birth. 

     Never complaining once, and with a loving hand she helped him through the years, enlightening him to a great many things. She had been the one to educate him about the trials of pubescence, of becoming a man, one that shows as much respect for himself as for his superiors. This golden-hearted woman had been the first to stress the importance of constant crisp hygiene. She taught him to cut his hair on his own and to be sure his face displayed a clean shave every day.

     She gradually instructed him to stand up tall, look anyone and everyone directly in the eyes, and speak with clear confidence. His posture had grown into militant perfection because of these methods alone.

     Undoubtedly, without her there, this _fire-head_ …this _carrot-top_ …this _misfit_ would have been lost. He kissed her again as the thought choked him. Stroking her beautiful hair one last time, he thanked her in silence, blinking away the rise of tears, and left the room.

     Venturing out into the storm, Armitage made his way back down the wooded path toward his family’s home; though he considered the dorm of the kitchen workers much more welcoming. The thick sheets of cold sharp rain nearly drowned him on the journey and he looked as if he’d gone for a swim in full regalia.


	4. Secrets and Societies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woollahra gets a deadly gift and Armitage learns of his father's program for the elite.

     The excess water dripped from the tips of his hair and ran down his face, forming a trail of murky puddles tracing behind as he soundlessly unlocked the door and entered his father’s house. The waterlogged teenager glanced nervously around the dark hall. He had not even thought to check the time, but judging by the dizzying ache at the edges of his eyes, he knew it was early in the morning. Very early, he could only hope; classes start again at six o’ clock sharp.

     Armitage could not wait to shed his damp clothes and slink into bed. The day had been abnormally taxing and all that ruled his mind was the reward of plunging his face down into his plump pillow.

     Passing the kitchen, he habitually stole a breaded cookie from Maratelle’s antique Nabooian jar, shoving the entire thing into his mouth in one easy bite. The crunch within his head was louder than his soggy footsteps as he casually headed upstairs.

     “You look like you’ve just lost a fight with a drunken waterworm.”

     Armitage froze. The cookie crumbs lodged themselves in his sinuses and burned as he choked. He had hardly begun to climb the staircase when the lurking voice from behind pierced his ears. He bit down upon his cheek until he could taste the blood and felt a sudden lurch of dread burble through his gut.

     “Father,” Much to his dismay, the boy glanced over his shoulder to face the darkness. “It is very late, I would’ve thought that you’d have been asleep long before now.” His hoarse voice broke on every word.

     Silence. Damning silence for what seemed like hours, until: “Actually, Armitage, it is very early. Two o’ clock according to mine.” The man’s voice was gruff and harsh; it was obvious that stealth for his slumbering family’s sake was not a priority.

     “I-I…Y-Yes, Sir, I suppose that is early-” His heart beat wildly in his ears as he stammered, wishing that he might be allowed to retire to his bedroom.

     “Woollahra had quite an interesting story to share tonight, Armitage.” He raked his teeth over the boy’s name.

     All the feeling in his face abandoned him at the tone of the angry man’s voice leaving the teenager utterly speechless.

     “She said that you deliberately ignored my direct orders and instead paid an intimate visit to the kitchen women.” Brendol uncrossed his legs, leaned forward and closed his mouth to let the remark take its toll. After a tense moment, he cocked his head and stood with a grunt; emerging from the gloom. “But we can delve into that lovely gem later. First, there is a little matter I’ve been waiting to discuss with you, _son_.”

     Armitage’s green eyes, wide with fear, snapped up to meet the Commandant’s glare at the word. He never called him that; except in pure sarcasm.

     “Come here.”

     Taking tiny stiff steps, the redhead obeyed.

     The intimidating man closed the gap between them and stood eye-to-eye with the quivering cadet. “Now tell me, how did it feel?”

     Armitage’s tongue was dry. He blanched at the question and could not for the life of him understand what was meant by it. “Feel, Sir? I-I don’t…”

     “During the simulation this afternoon, when you turned that stun blaster on a female soldier. How did it make you feel?” His glower seemed to burn right through the boy’s skull.

     Armitage stuttered again, finding it impossible to meet his father’s gaze. “I felt…I felt…I don’t know! I just didn’t…I wasn’t…”

     Brendol lowered his voice into a robust growl. “Did it solidify your delusion of manhood? Did you think the thrill of exterminating a little girl at point blank range would grant you passage to embrace your pathetic ideas of masculinity?”

     A flush of fury brought on by the man’s insults thrust color back into his cheeks and Armitage defiantly challenged his father’s stare. He could feel his entire body quake with the violent emotion. Clenching both his fists and his teeth, his skin color became one with his hair. “No!” His fears fled, replaced by pure hatred for the man and he spit as he yelled. “I was born with the heritage! With natural destiny that has turned me into a hardened man! I don’t have to prove anything to anyone! Not to you! Not to that dog you married! Surely not to that dolt who would’ve been killed had it been a real battle!”

    He stuck a finger in the man’s face and screamed at the top of his lungs; indefinitely rousing the rest of the household. “You! You should be thanking me for not softening on her behalf! Yes! I’m glad that I shoved her into the mud! I’m glad that I pulled the trigger on my _half_ -sister!” He made sure to put emphasis on the technical aspect of their relationship. “ _Someone_ has got to teach her the fact of life that every man is out for himself and that she can trust no one! Not even the ones closest to her!”

     His lungs burned for a fresh breath, but he went on despite their pleas. “Actually, I am thoroughly astonished that she hasn’t already learned that little tidbit from you, Brendol! From what _I_ can recall in _my_ childhood, you and Maratelle both labored to no extent to pound into my brain the rigorous lesson of having no choice but to fend for myself! Ever since I could think on my own, I’ve known that I was unloved and that for some reason you were both too ashamed to call me son! And yet…even still I held out hope that one day…one blasted day…one of you might have the decency to notice my presence. That maybe as I aced the trials of your Academy, you might in some way have grown to become proud of me.” He gasped for air and coughed as the high of immense frustration exhausted itself; though he never broke eye contact.

     Armitage huffed, his neck, ears, and eyes still beet red, and fought with his emotions to regain control of the conversation. “That was my mistake. I realize that now.” With a side glance, he observed that the ruckus had attracted some unwanted attention from the commandant’s wife; she stood in the shadow of the staircase wrapped in a think gray shawl, watching him in contempt for ruining her sleep.

     Brendol Hux had regally allowed his son’s rant, but not without consequence. The instant the boy’s mouth closed, he wound up and cracked him across the jaw. Hard.

     Armitage let out a hoarse cry and fell like a sack of rocks to the floor; Rain water and saliva spraying across the room upon impact. The fear and anxiety that had originally gripped his mind now came flooding back as his father raised his voice into that of the booming Academy Commandant.

     “Get up! Don’t you dare cower to the me like the pantywaist you are! Get up, Armitage! I don’t care who it is that throws you on your face, you never just lie there and take it! Do you hear me!? Never!”

     Slowly, with his shoulders slumped over in hesitance, the abused boy pushed himself up away from the floorboards. In a second’s glance, he thought he caught the gleam of Maratelle’s witch-like grin as he rose to meet his father again. However, this time he was sure there remained a bit of distance between them.

     Brendol’s hard green eyes focused on the swelling bruise surrounding the boy’s quivering chin. He stretched out his aching fingers, cracking them as he rubbed away the redness gracing his twisted knuckles.

     A long stare of inferior respect mixed with festering hatred ensued. Neither man spoke for over a minute.

     Suddenly, the Commandant unclipped a small officer’s blaster from its holster and directed the barrel to his son’s chest.

     Armitage’s heart jumped into his throat and his breathing flared, but he dared not move out of the way thinking that the man would openly fire if he did.

     Slowly, Brendol spun the gun around and offered the butt end to the terror-stricken cadet. “Real men… _real Imperial officers_ do not waste their time fighting the weak. Take it, Armitage.”

     The redhead squirmed, attempting to swallow the lump lodged in his neck, he nervously glanced from the weapon to his father, then back to the blaster. “Sir?”

     “Take it!” Brendol shoved it into his chest producing a painful thud and stepped back. “Your poor excuse of physical anatomy holds no authority over the right to call yourself a man. It is a rite of passage failed by many…so, prove it!” He slapped his wide chest with both hands and stared his boy dead in the eye. “This is real! Man-to-man! If you have the audacity to turn your assault on an unarmed child, then you let us see if you can muster the courage to engage in a traditional stand-off!” He stood with his legs apart waiting for the shot. “Why are you hesitating!? Shoot me!”

     Armitage’s heart was pounding, and his arm shook as he lifted the blaster sights to the man’s breast. Sweat began to bead all over his body, making his grip on the gun’s slender stock that much harder to steady.

     “Go on!” The man goaded; making the boy ultimately more nervous. “Shoot! Earn the right to be called a man, Armitage! Earn it!”

     The boy whimpered and finally lowered his throbbing arm with a shout of defeat. “No! I can’t do it, Father! It was only set to stun with Woollahra! But this is murder!” Staggering backward, he heard a sharp scoff leak from the woman on the staircase which caused a bristle of angered embarrassment to flush his veins.

     Brendol Hux lowered his voice, stepping closer and savagely ripped his blaster out of his son’s grasp. “Just as I expected.” With vicious strength, he plowed the barrel into the bandaged side of Armitage’s face. “It is the weak-willed, soft-hearted, useless wretches like you who have brought our mighty Empire to her knees.” With an odd coolness, he forced the cadet to the floor.

     Armitage could not move, his muscles screamed as they were seized by the cold hand of terror. His father’s abrupt actions had caused the rupture of his facial wounds and the bleeding was beginning to soak through their medical coverage. Still, the sole movement he dared to produce in that moment was not but the occasional bob of the lump under his chin as he tried to swallow.

     A deafening click followed by the cartridge wheeze forced him to flinch, wincing in vain and squeezing his eyes shut in false anticipation as his father pulled the trigger. Empty…Armitage groaned at the thought that he had failed to fire an unloaded blaster.

     Without another word, the Commandant stuffed the pistol back into its pouch and left the sniveling, sopping mess of a boy to his own condemnation. Taking his wife by the arm in a calm gentlemanly manner, he led her back to their bedroom.

     It was not until after he heard the distinctive slam and lock of the door upstairs when Armitage released all his pent-up emotions. Dragging himself on his knees, he reached up for the stair railing; just as he had done before his father made his presence known.

     With a moan that was louder than he had hoped it to be, the boy allowed the dam of years of abuse break loose. The tears overflowed his eyes and slavered down his cheeks. Sniffling beyond all control and breathing hard, he trudged up to his room. Once there, he locked the door, rammed a chair under its handle and ran to his bed.

     Hours passed. Daylight had begun to dribble over his floor as he continued to wallow in his misery. With the countless minutes he spent screaming into his hands and sobbing bitterly, he came to a firm conclusion that if Woollahra had only left him alone none of this would have happened and his intense hatred for the girl grew in strength.

     The next few days had been difficult to say the least. An unnerving silence ruled over the men of the household; neither one of them wanting the other’s attention in the slightest. Stress during the daily meal gatherings hit an all-time high and would constantly be cut short by yet another heated argument between the two. Armitage was entirely grateful for the metal dinner table in these moments for it supplied a sufficient barrier when his father’s face flushed, and his fists flexed.

     Classes at the Academy went on at a remorseless pace. Tests of battle skills, accuracy in aiming, and war terminology were forced on the students regardless of their state of health.

     Speaking of which, Armitage was recuperating from his scrimmage wounds at a rapid pace; due to his flawless immune system and sheer stubborn will.

     However, even with this blessed self-healing ability, he found no way to hide the gift his father had bestowed upon his face. The swollen purple welt had only grown since the attack. Deepening in color it quickly spread to his neck and covered part of his cheek. The injury had inevitably earned a fair share of unwelcome attention from his colleagues; with some of the more childish ones poking at it just to see him wince and swat at them in untamed fury. The thing served as just another laugh to be had, just another reason to make fun of the “Skinny, Horsewhipped Ginger-haired Reject”.

     After enduring one full week of this unnecessary torture, Armitage began to defy the order of scheduling and refused to enter the recess yard between classes; instead, spending his permitted down time inside and alone. Avoiding social interaction would turn him into a better officer anyway. At least that was what he told himself when he watched in envy as the other cadets romped and played with one another like the fools they were. These were the days where he would sit in the Academy library and absorb critical knowledge concerning the war techniques and strategies of the Empire; so buried with data files that it would be no great feat to spend all night in that place dizzying his brain with research.

     Simple daily tasks that usually went unnoticed, seemed near impossible with his lingering facial bruise. Eating, sleeping, talking, and bathing, amongst other things, brought him nothing but intolerable dull pain. Oh, the day when all would be healed could not come fast enough!

     It was morning. A dawn of a new day. The start of another trial from the pit of hell. Armitage stood in his bedroom before a small wash bin and mirror. He carefully primed a sleek razor, brought it to the base of his ear and pulled it down to his chin. Knowing that the slightest pressure would cause a boundless eruption of agony, he guided the blade over his yellowed skin with a featherlight touch. At least the swollen lump that doubled as his chin had finally vanished.

     A lazy roll of docile thunder lolled overhead, and the young cadet found himself staring out at the lapping rain flooding over his window. With a sigh he finished the meager task of shaving his aching face.

     Suddenly, a creak in the hall, followed by muffled whispers grabbed his sharp attention and his green eyes darted to the door that had been left ajar. A slim shaft of yellow light poured in through the crack allowing him to see without being seen. As he moved closer in silence the sounds grew into audible conversation.

     “It will bring a great honor to this family when you become part of your father’s program.”

     It was Maratelle. Armitage felt a chill run down his spine as he stared her in the face and staggered back to see her looking his way. Was she talking to him? Did she know he was there in the room but too ashamed to speak to him of honor without a blind in between? After all these years why this sudden change of heart?

     “The Commandant’s Cadets are a team of which only the most ruthless, the most elite soldiers are granted passage into. And I can tell already, with my observation of you in the field, that you are destined to become the best of them.”

     Confusion washed over his mind and even though this woman had brought him nothing but pain since he could remember, a new sense of hesitant gratitude tingled within his core. Was it truly possible that all his hard work and efficiency he had shown during the Academy’s battles had finally brought her to her senses to give him the praise and approval that he so well deserved? The thought warmed his heart and a small, yet timid smile crawled over his lips as he decided to open the door to meet her appropriately.

     The moment his fingers brushed the handle his assumptions shattered, and his glee evaporated for the woman was instantly answered by a high, irritating, grating voice.

     “Yes! Thank you, Mother, I won’t let you or Father down.”

     Armitage began to tremble with rising anger that warmed his chest. He shifted to the right, expanding his gaze and glared at his younger sister who was standing much too close to his bedroom door. A low growl vibrated in his throat when he saw Maratelle’s ugly grin.

     “I know you won’t, Woollahra. It is only fitting for the first born of the Commandant to excel in his exclusive program.”

     The eavesdropping boy felt a twinge of pain pierce his heart at the woman’s remark and immediately cursed himself for not being entirely immune to her insults yet. His breathing quickened, and his fists clenched; the razor clattered to the floor with his frustration.

     Woollahra beamed up at her mother. “How do I join? Will Father train me?” She laughed at her own ignorance. “To be honest, I don’t even know what it is.”

     Armitage’s green eyes narrowed with dark jealousy when he saw the woman break her hard demeanor with a chuckle of delight.

     “Ah, my darling girl, there in lies the difficulty. But I have every confidence in you that you will triumph over all who oppose.” She knelt and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “The first step is nomination by observation.”

     “Observation of what? My strength in battle?”

     She nodded. “That, and your efficiency in your classes. But I have already spoken with your father and he has agreed to let you compete. Next is the hardest part, but it is only one small test of true loyalty and skill, both of which you show great promise of.”

     The woman glanced around and lowered her voice, making Armitage strain to hear her words.

     “To join the CC, you must eliminate one of your fellow nominees without arousing suspicion. It is crucial that you make it look like an accident. Or else there are dire consequences.”

     The girl gulped and shuddered with growing anxiety. “How am I supposed to do that? I was thinking that it would be hand-to-hand combat…or maybe I could use a real blaster?”

     Maratelle laughed. “You definitely have your father’s taste for blood, sweetheart. I knew that you would be worried about this, so I made some arrangements to give you a boost.”

     “But…But isn’t that cheating?” The young girl blanched.

     “The fact that you will be the youngest and the only female nominee is the only unfairness.” Her mother smiled as she removed a small bottle from the folds of her robe. “This is called Lexonite. It is a deadly poison from the caverns of Nigel Six. It is yours now, but I warn you do not open it until the time is right; and when you do, be careful not to breath in the dust. Consumption of any amount will take your life in a matter of hours.” With that, she handed the weapon to her daughter with warning.

     Woollahra jumped with sudden explosive joy and she squealed. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Mother! I’ll guard it with my life! I’m going to be the best CC soldier that ever lived!”

     Maratelle shushed her and patted her head. “I understand this is very exciting. I am excited for you, but keep your voice down. Armitage is likely just waking now, and I don’t want him hearing of this or he’ll surely embarrass us all by attempting to join.”

     Instantly, the girl ceased her bouncing and glanced at her brother’s door. “Yes, Mother.” She thought for a moment before hugging the dangerous vial to her chest and added: “I will bring honor to the Hux name and make you both proud to call me your daughter.”

     “You accomplished that the day you were born, darling.” Maratelle fondly remarked.

     _Darling_. _Darling!?_ Armitage winced as he heard it. That name belonged to him! His festering hatred boiled over and with a vengeance he threw the door closed; slamming it with an echoing fury.

     Woollahra started with a frightened scream and whipped around at the sudden bang.

     “Disgraceful boy!” Maratelle had been equally surprised and she shook her head at her husband’s child. “Stop this childish behavior at once or I will be forced to punish you myself! And clean yourself up to be down for breakfast in five minutes!”

     The fuming boy inside had crossed the room and was leaning his beading forehead against the cool glass window. He heard the woman’s warning and disregarded it instantly. There was nothing more she could do to cause him pain then that which had been done in the past. He glared with hatred at his own marred reflection and wished that he was a real part of this blasted family. He wanted what Woollahra had, wanted it badly enough to be wholly consumed by an envious grudge that he had held since the moment of her birth.

     It was all her fault! Turning on his heel, he retrieved his sharpened razor and placed it neatly atop the rim of the wide wash bin. That twit! That horrible waste of life! She had robbed him of his right to bring honor to the family name. Stolen his chance to induce pride into the heart of their father. It was time to end it all. Put a stop to the humiliation that he was forced to endure because of that cursed, green-eyed, brown-nosing, little-

     His thoughts of violence were obliterated by a small metal creak and the sudden movement of the door he had just abused.

       The freckled chubby face of Woollahra Hux appeared from the shadows and looked around the room in hyperactive excitement until laying eyes on her tall brother.

     Armitage took one look and glared. Straightening his back in a stiff authoritative manner, he faced away from her and snarled. “I did not invite you to enter my room, Girl!”

     “Will you just shut up and listen to me for once, Armitage?” There was a sense of humor in her small voice and she happily skipped to the center of the room and launched herself onto his bouncy mattress.

     His eyes burned with white hot ire and he shouted. “Get off! I don’t want you in here!”

     She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Did you know that your voice cracks every time you yell?” She began to point and laugh at him as his cheeks reddened. “Guess who just became a valued member of Father’s special program?” She closed her eyes in self-assuring glory.

     It took all the strength he could muster to restrain himself from beating her to death as he watched her toss his pillow to the floor to make more room for her sprawling form. “Get. Out.” His teeth were grinding, and his mind whirled in anger.

     “It’s me!” She flipped over to lay on her stomach and twirled her legs. “I’m going to prove that even a young girl can fight just as hard as you numb boys.”

     “You’re so naive!” He sneered at her annoying exaggerated story. “Maratelle said that you have to kill someone first! I heard her say it!”

     Woollahra’s grin shrunk. “That’s ‘Madame’ to you, Mister. But it will be easy.”

     “Are you sure you can handle the toll it is bound to take on your feeble mind? You do realize this is murder we are talking about?”

     “My mind is not feeble, Armitage! And of course, I can do it! Mother gave me _this_ to help!” Pulling the small blue cylinder from her fist, she held it in front of his nose. “Poison to get the job done. Because you have to be sneaky about it or you can’t join.”

     “Get that out of my face!” He swatted at her hand.

     “Armitage, be careful! It is very deadly stuff! I don’t want to drop it and die because of your stupidity!”

Ripping the vial from her grasp, he seized her arm and rolled the girl off his bed. “I told you to leave!”

     She squealed when she hit the floor with a heavy thud. “Give it back! It’s mine!”

     “No, I think I’ll keep it.” He stretched his arm up over his head and laughed as she jumped and clawed at his hand. “I know exactly who I’ll use it on too. Just an irritating little girl who has fooled herself and all those around her into thinking that she has the skill level to make it in the Commandant’s Academy.”

     Woollahra gasped in anger; the feeling colored her soft cheeks. “Mother gave it to me! She was the one who said I’d be able to join the CC, Armitage, and she is smarter than you! Armitage stop it! Give it to me!” Her fingers dug into his flesh in her vain attempts of recovery.

     “Maybe that irritating brat will go to sleep one night and never wake up.” He continued to dangle the vial over her head. “That would be a real shame, huh?” He closed his eyes. “No one would really miss her though, I mean not for long anyway. Bet she wouldn’t even get a real funeral service.”

     The enraged girl cried out with her red-hot emotion and clenched her teeth. Without warning, and with brash action, she brutally lunged at her brother and buried both of her bony fists into his groin; precisely where she had been taught it would hurt the most.

     Armitage let out a hoarse scream and coughed breathlessly as he doubled over in shock and anguish. Dropping the glass poison vial, he crumpled to the floor, finding himself bowing on his knees before his wicked sister.

     Woollahra, still red in the face, smiled down at him with bursting pride as she retrieved her deadly possession and stuffed it in her pocket. “I told you to give it to me. See, Armitage, if you would just listen to someone besides yourself, this wouldn’t keep happening.” She petted the stray ginger hairs on his head with the most patronizing strokes as he puled at her feet.

     He could feel the blood pulsing through his body and he winced as waves of nausea racked his system. Staring up at her through his disheveled locks, his eyes watered, but he immediately blinked away the rising emotion. Never would he allow that brat to see him break down, no matter what pain he suffered in her presence.

     Pain was always a fleeting notion, both mental and physical; and through the years he had learned to cope with it. But humiliation was a lasting impression with actual consequences. It was at times like these, times when Woollahra held the high ground and flaunted it, that brought on the full brunt of embarrassment and indignity.

     Slowly recovering from the girl’s heartless blow, Armitage swallowed the hard lump in his throat and drew in a sharp breath. “I hate you, you little savage! Get out of my room! Get out of my life!” He forced himself to push away the internal agony and staggered to his feet. Grabbing the girl roughly by her raven hair, he furiously dragged her toward the door.

     Kicking and scratching at his hands, she wailed in pain as she was hurled out into the hallway.

     Armitage stepped over her fallen body and headed to the staircase to ignore his unwanted breakfast before classes began. Looking over his shoulder, he gave his sister a stern cold glare. “Listen well, Woollahra, if you ever touch me again… poison or no poison, I will kill you.”

     A chill tickled her spine at his words. There was something in his hard eyes that eliminated any doubt to be had about his threat.

 


	5. How the Game is Played Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you fight hard enough, you will eventually get your way.

     Downstairs, the two siblings were greeted with scowls of impatience.

     “I said ‘five minutes’, it has been ten! What on earth was going on up there?” Maratelle gave the redheaded boy a glare of contempt -to which he aptly reflected.

     “Sorry, Mother, we were just practicing some combat techniques that we learned yesterday.” Woollahra crept down the steps and quickly took her seat at the table, acting as if nothing had transpired.

     Armitage remained silent, taking his own chair and respectfully folding his hands in his sore lap. With one look at the plate of steaming slop below his nose, he grimaced and turned away.

     He had never really been one for eating; unless he was in his true mother’s presence. She always asked her beloved son what he felt in the mood for and never failed to prepare a delectable version of his choice. When the meals were presented in such a wonderful manner, he made sure not disappoint her by showing any less ambition than to entirely gorge himself.

     Here, however, with the constant cloud of stress and abusive nature of the household, Maratelle’s burnt cooking held no such seductive spell over his stomach.

     “Do we have to go through this every day, little cur!?” The nasty woman chewed on her breakfast and rolled her eyes at him. “Food is energy, Armitage! How do you expect to pass the examinations as well as your sister if you are running without fuel?”

     He ground his teeth and shot a burning glance to Woollahra -to which she aberrantly shied away from. “I excel at the Academy, Maratelle, don’t fool yourself! Both you and Father have seen my Skill and Performance reports!” He clenched his fists in defiance. “According to my studies, I am years ahead of my appointed classes and should be a graduated officer by now!” He gave her a cynical sneer and challenged her authority by staring her directly in the eye.

     “You will address me as Madame, impudent scum!” She slapped the table’s surface completely ignoring his point.

     Armitage closed his mouth and looked away. He had to bite down hard on his tongue to stop himself from retorting: _Oh, my mistake, Mme. Impudent Scum._ With throbbing reluctance, he hissed. “Forgive me, Madame?”

     “Eat your food, Armitage!”

     “I don’t want it, _Madame_!” He treated her name with the same amount of scorn that she had enveloped his with.

     “Enough of this!” Brendol had been stuffing his face full of hot cakes and sweet milk while his son argued with his wife. “Armitage, you need to learn your place.” His words were punctuated by a dull hateful glare. “Know that your life in this household is equivalent to the smear on bottom of a boot.” He pointed at him with a loaded fork, then swiftly shoved it into his mouth before the dripping cake slothed off.

     The boy’s brow darkened, and he was about to defend his pride when a sudden knock on the outside door sounded through the dining room.

     Brendol swallowed hurriedly and wiped his hands with a rough cloth napkin. “There he is now!” He stood and looked to his wife. “Impeccable timing, just as I told you. He shows promise indeed.”

     Armitage cocked his head in wonder as he watched his father open the door and wave the mysterious intruder inside.

     “Come in, Cadet, have you had breakfast? Maratelle will make you up a fresh plate if you so wish.”

     “No, thank you, Sir, I took the liberty of an early visit to the kitchen mess. The woman on duty beat you to it, Ma’am.” He bowed his head in a polite decline. “Though I’m sure I’ve missed out on something exquisite.” The boy answered with a charming chuckle.

     Armitage scoffed loudly.

     Brendol blinked in annoyance at the rudeness of his child, but soon returned his attentions toward their guest. “Very well. Have a seat nonetheless.” He gestured for the young man to take his own chair. Strolling to the opposite end of the table, the gruff man harshly tapped the back of his bewildered son’s head. “Move, Armitage,” eliciting an immediate response of obedience.

     The Commandant sat in his place and shoved the now cold plate of food into the boy’s chest. “I’ll warn you only once more, you will find this food sliding down your gullet one way or another, Armitage.”

     The exiled teenager swallowed nervously, mumbling a small, “Yes, Sir,” before slinking away to lean his skinny elbows on a standing bar in the center of the kitchen. With a scheming glare, the bright haired boy eyed the elder cadet who had stolen the family’s meal time away. More importantly, this impromptu visitor had cost Armitage his esteemed place at the dinner table -the only place where he fit unconditionally, and he hated him for it.

     He recognized him perfectly of course. It was the same face of that boy who had carried him to the Med Bay all those years ago. Their acquaintance had grown since then, with the relentless bullying at the Academy prompting the boy to conduct himself as Armitage’s uninvited protector.

     Tritt Opan, now a young man and soon-to-be officer, had always been at the top of the class. He had won countless academic medals and ribbons for his unique skill set and strategic fighting style. With all these impressive achievements surrounding him it was not uncommon for Opan to be recognized publicly by the regal Commandant. And recently, Brendol Hux had been offering special sessions for the prestigious cadet to preach his methods to the class. This…Teacher’s Pet, it seemed in a mere month, had gained a welcome invitation into the Huxes life and was rewarded with open arms; whereas Armitage had been shunned and denied that acceptance since birth. The Commandant spoke to Opan as if he were his own son, and most times, treated him so.

     Armitage stared coldly at Tritt as he gagged quietly on his stepmother’s cooking. The fact that he had been born with eyes of green had surely been a foretelling of his nature, for he gazed upon the older boy with murderous envy unhinged. At least the wretched invader was set to graduate this year, and would soon be joining the Empire’s fleet and be taken away from Arkanis for good.

     Just as the thought exited his mind, the redhead choked as the inedible taste of the cold porridge sloshed over his tongue and he spit it back onto the plate in disgust. His stomach twisted at the sight of it and he frantically scraped the remains into a hidden trash chute before it caused him to vomit.

     “Now, Tritt, let’s get right down to business.” Brendol Hux rested his elbows on the table top and laced his long fingers together. “First, I must congratulate you on your success in entering the ring.”

     “Yes, Sir, thank you. I am proud to be in the running for the title of an elite Commandant’s Cadet.” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and sighed. “However, it seems my enthusiasm about it has not been contagious amongst the other entrants.”

     “Oh?” The man sat back with a furrowed brow. “And what makes you say that?”

     Armitage felt himself wrap his fingers in a death-grip around a spoon that had been forgotten on the countertop. His heart throbbed with jealous beats as he heard such a rare tone of gentleness spewing from his father’s mouth.

     “Well, the initial group held twelve members. It has only been a matter of weeks and we have dwindled down to about five, or so.” He cleared his throat. “The other seven either, got stationed elsewhere, fell to the draft, or just quit the program all together. Bottom line is, Sir, we currently do not have the appropriate numbers to initiate the CC challenge.”

     The man sighed deeply and shook his head in disappointment. “Pansies…how am I supposed to mold men out of these delicate flowers!?”

     “There is a bright side however, if I may, Sir,” He continued after the man’s wave of approval. “You only need to find one extra cadet to even things out, and then the battle will commence unhindered.”

     The irritated Commandant growled quietly. “Those seven were the last of the regime that showed any sort of capability…but apparently, whatever it was I saw in them was a mere front. Paper men! All of them! Cowards!”

     Armitage perked up as he listened to the progression of the predicament and had been cautiously creeping closer. “Recruit me.” He stood at the end of the table with a face of complete seriousness.

     All eyes snapped to the bright haired boy and he swallowed his rising anxiety.

     “You!?” Brendol snorted. “In _my_ program? Here I am talking about weak-willed boys; right on cue.” He added with a spirit crushing laugh. “I think you’ll find the stormtrooper program more fitting to your type, Armitage.”

     “No, I-I could do it.” He stammered, trying to reestablish some confidence. “Take a look at my grades. Look at my skill reports…I’m ruthless in battle. I-I’m not squeamish when it comes to facing the consequences of strict duty.” He rubbed his knuckles together until they turned red, and chewed on his cheek.

     “I could do it, Father!” Woollahra butted in with her usual amplified enthusiasm. Her cheeks swelled with porridge, though it did not stop her from speaking over her brother’s words. “Mother already said I could join! Please!? I promise I’ll win!”

     Before Brendol could respond, Armitage stepped in front of the girl, blocking the man’s view and smiled. “Think of it, Father, if you allow me this privilege, it will be more than just a test of skill. It will be a battle of honor, of rightful inauguration.” He glanced at Maratelle whose face had turned red with anger. “No more guessing which of your children is qualified to bear the esteemed name of Hux. Put me in the competition! Pit her against my strategy and I’ll rid this house of our annoying rivalry. I promise.” His head bobbed with hope that the man would mirror his movement.

     “No! How dare you speak of such things, Armitage!” Maratelle flung a hand over her chest and cursed him. “Woollahra is yet a child! You shall never harm her! She is your sister for God’s sake!”

     The boy rolled his eyes.

     “The groups are separated by sex, rank, and age, Armitage. As much as you would love to be unleashed upon your sister, I will not allow it.” His voice was calm. “Go back to the shadows and be silent. Tritt and I are discussing matters that do not concern you.”

     Maratelle gave a snort of justice and smiled at her husband.

     Armitage dared not meet her gaze and inhaled deeply. Refusing to shrink to his father’s command, the stubborn cadet rooted his boots to the floor and pursed his lips.

     “No, offense, Sir, and I’m not saying this in defiance of your orders, but perhaps letting your boy join up would not be such a bad idea. His grade scores _are_ quite impressive.” Tritt Opan felt his mouth dry out instantly after the words left his tongue.

     The irked Commandant turned agonizingly slow to face the young man. “Do you claim to know my son better than I?” He grumbled.

     “Oh, no, Sir!” Tritt held up his hands in defensive submission and his breaths came with growing effort. “I only meant that with his participation, we would have an even number of competitors and the exam could commence immediately; rather than waiting around for another cadet to prove himself. It’s just my opinion, Sir, do not feel compelled to heed it if you so despise the notion.” He averted his eyes in timid respect.

     Brendol heaved a long sigh glancing to his desperate wife and then to Armitage. A long moment of intense silence filled the room as the man stormed over the idea of it.

     Armitage was about to open his mouth to further boost his case, but was instantly shut up by one word.

     “Fine!” Brendol Hux slapped the table. “He may join, but only because we are short on recruits.” Holding up a finger of authority, his frown deepened as his wife scoffed and rose from her seat.

     With a tone like splintered glass, the woman blatted. “Come, Woollahra. Suddenly I find this mixed company deplorable.”

     Watching Maratelle storm off in a ridiculous huff, Armitage smirked at her as they brushed shoulders. Quickly, after the women had disappeared, he seized Maratelle’s cooling chair and dragged the legs closer to the table.

     “That is very good, Sir.” Tritt’s eyes gleamed as he looked on Armitage with half-hidden excitement.

     Granting the older boy a mere side glance, the redhead pretended not to notice his maddening presence. “Thank you, Father.” He smiled in admiration.

     “Don’t thank me, Armitage.” The aggravated officer snapped back. “And wipe that childish grin off your face! I have yet to see if you can handle the pressure there is to deliver.”

     “I’ve been studying. My methods will impress, Sir, you have my word.” He nodded, instantly sheathing his teeth and straightening his lips.

     “That has yet to be seen.” Brendol snorted angrily through his nose. Turning back to Tritt Opan, a wave of calmness came over him and he breathed slowly, guzzling down the last of his cold beverage. “One week, boys. That’s all the time I will allow.” The empty glass clunked to the table.

     Taking turns, the cadets each received a threatening glare accompanied by a warning finger to the face.

     “This is the smallest class that I’ve ever had, but still I expect no less than perfect results. Frankly, with so few of you, narrowing down the better half shouldn’t take more than a couple days.” He laughed at the fact. “Six cadets at the start. At the end: you will have divided into two groups: three finalists, and three in the grave. This is a free-for-all, boys, and blood will be spilled.”

     “The official rules are to be kept on your person at all times during the examination; A necessary asset to possess and your license to kill, putting it plainly. I have them here. Failure to present and abide by them warrants conviction and death, so my suggestion would be to memorize each line thoroughly and never leave them out of sight.”

     He handed two letter sized envelopes to the young men. “There will be no model of blasters allowed, no thermal detonators, no electro-weaponry… Nothing yielding the potential to bring attention to your strike. This kill is a matter that must be completed in complete secrecy. There are absolutely no exceptions. I do not care to hear a word concerning a plan of action either of you have already formulated against your opponents. I simply demand that you take them out quietly and effectively. Remember, the sooner you have narrowed the competition down to three, the sooner you will secure your spot as a CC elite squad member.”

     Brendol stood, provoking the two cadets to follow, and shook them both by the hand. “The test begins immediately after the briefing I shall give tomorrow at noon in the mess hall. In the meantime, I encourage you to open those envelopes and acquire an intimate understanding of the rules. Good luck, boys, I hope to see at least one of you alive on Saturday.”

     Armitage noticed his father’s gaze tarrying on Tritt Opan’s face with those words and knitted his bright eyebrows in resentment. “Yes, Sir, I’ll be sure to bring you the head of my victim rolling around on a silver platter.” He straightened his shoulders with pride in violence.

     The Commandant turned his back on his son with a roll of his eyes. “Never make a promise on that which you have little control over, Armitage.” With that, he left the room to find his wife and bring her back to her senses.

     Armitage closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump back to comfort. “I’ll prove it to him.” He mumbled under his breath. “I’ll prove it to _all_ of them!” He clenched his fist and glared at the older boy beside him. This boy had stuck up for him, rescued him countless times from the bullies of the Academy, and been his only positive acquaintance at the school. This same boy had now transformed into an enemy, a cunning rival, and Armitage decided then and there that he would stop at nothing to plant himself in the winner’s circle of his father’s program.

     Tritt Opan sighed. “Hey you’re in, kid! Lucky break, eh, Hux? Thought your Mother was going to blow a gasket at one point there.” He laughed heartily and put a friendly hand on the boy’s shoulder. “So, it got me to thinking though, how about a truce between you and me. I’ll watch your back if you’ll watch mine. It would be strictly confidential of course.” He stepped in front of the younger boy, offering his hand. “Top two guaranteed? What do you say?”

     Armitage shifted his glower to his enemy’s open palm and flung it away. “That woman is not my mother!” His teeth clashed together and stuck a finger in the young man’s shocked face. “I owe you nothing. Your choice to watch out for me and butt in to my life at the Academy is your own weakness. I’ll see you on the battlefield, Opan.” He pushed past him in a rough and challenging manner.

 


	6. How the Game is Played Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes our loved ones can care too much.

    Classes at the Academy had been redundantly taxing that day. It was the fifth installment of the tactics director’s new program: “Torture Endurance.”

     Armitage, along with the rest of the regime in his rank, was ambushed throughout the day at random. Fighting back was pointless; there were no perks to be gained with the notion. The bullheaded cadet had learned this early on, at the start of the week when the session had begun. Resistance to the attacks brought on nothing but adversity following a rough backhanded smack to the mouth. Five adult men seized the students amidst the chaos and brought them all to an unmarked out building where they were blindfolded and bound hands-to-feet with electroshock chains.

     Armitage remembered the increasing feeling of sheer panic exploding in his brain and producing an irregular, overheating, throbbing in his chest. It was an eternal need of his to possess full control over every situation in life, and there, with those painful bonds and that black wall covering his eyes; that satisfaction was stripped away from him.

     The simulation was meant to resemble the torture techniques of the Rebellion and to harshly forge the Empire’s future officers into hard unbreakable men capable of withstanding the most sadistic persecution methods.

     After the final round of traumatizing torment had ceased, and the class had been released to the recess yards, Armitage swiftly slipped away to find his mother’s dorm, as was his tradition with the coming of nightfall.

     The prickly rain drops pounded down on the tall boy as he paced beneath the saturated sky in frantic patience. He was a good hour earlier than his normal arrival time and after three unanswered knocks on the door, he decided that she must be still at the Academy mess hall, tidying up for the night.

     The drowned boy busied himself wholly in his wait. Taking the paper that displayed his father’s official CC rules from his trouser pocket, he read them over carefully; while continuing to indulge in his senseless journey back and forth through the growing puddles. Pressing the folded paper to the crease in his forehead, he squeezed his eyes closed and plagued his brain with the grueling task of memorization; reciting the rules aloud to the best of his ability.

     Suddenly, the sound of light footsteps crashing through the mud behind, derailed his train of thought and expunged his formidable labor. Whipping around, the rain spraying from his clumped locks, he caught a brief glimpse of flowing orange hair fly through the door before it slammed shut again.

     “Mother!” He laughed and shoved the important piece of paper into his pocket as he trotted up the steps. Grabbing the doorknob and twisting it to let himself in after her, his smile vanished. She had locked it. A wave of hurt and confusion flooded his mind and his lips parted slowly.

     “Mother?” He hesitantly rapped on the door. “Are you alright?”

          There came an immediate answer from within. Although it was hard to hear over the pounding rain, Armitage’s concern flew away as he recognized the lovely and playful tone.

     “Who is it?” The woman spoke in a mock singsong voice.

     He pressed his forehead against the smooth surface and smirked. “It’s Grand Moff Hux of Arkanis Academy.”

    A dull thump from inside, and her voice became slightly louder; though no less sarcastic. “Well, well, well. To what do I owe such an esteemed visit? You realize of course, that I am just a lowly kitchen woman?”

     “Not from the stories I’ve heard. Rumor has it that a regal Queen resides here and disguises herself as a cook to deter the swarming crowds of admirers.”

     There came a pause and then a clunk, followed by the swing of the metal door.

     “How did you descry my true identity, Grand Moff? I’m impressed.” With a ludic glint in her beautiful eyes she squinted. “Now the question arises, how am I to keep you quiet about it?” With the speed of a clumsy viper, she humorously pulled him away from the rainy outside and stood on her tiptoes to put him in a laughably pathetic headlock.

     The initial surprise caught him off guard, and he almost lost his footing when she dragged him in. His first instinct was to viciously defend himself but the feeling of his mother’s warm touch -albeit of gentle hostility, calmed his mind and reminded him it was just her sense of play.

     “I could threaten your life, but you are immune to that sort of thing. Suppose I bribe you with a hot meal of salted pork-steak, boiled veg pack, and a delicious surprise dessert? Would that hold your tongue, Sir?”

     Armitage’s eyes widened at the mention of the delicacy. His back was bent uncomfortably due to the height difference, but he dared not move for fear losing her embrace. “Oh, yes!” He grunted. “I promise I’ll never speak of it!”

     She laughed and sent a smacking kiss to his sopping cheek. “Shall I propose a truce then, Grand Moff?”

     He laughed loudly. “I think that’s a good idea, as I am so clearly at your mercy, my Queen.”

     Letting him go, she chuckled and carefully rubbed away the rosy smudge that had been left on his face from her lipstick. “How is my handsome young man today?” Before he had a moment to answer, she turned away, beckoning for him to follow.

     “Today is too broad a term, Mother, in this very instant, however, I can say that I am thoroughly overjoyed to be here with you.” He shadowed her and walked into the spacious dining room where the miniature buffet was waiting.

     After they had enjoyed the steaming meal, the sweet woman flashed an exuberant smile at the boy, then stood up from her wooden chair.

     “What?” He lifted his head with a cautious smile.

     “Stay right there, Darling, and close your eyes.” She covered his face with her soft hands.

     “Alright, Mother.” He obeyed her command, replacing her hold with his own. “Why all the mysterious formality?”

     “Wait. Show some patience, will you?” She giggled.

     Armitage sighed. For the sixth time that week he was again blindfolded by force, but now there came a sense of tranquil excitement that took hold of his mind instead of anxious foreboding. “Mother?”

     A sudden intoxicating smell of sweet crispy bread caressed his nose and caused his mouth to water. He recognized the scent. It was the special cake that his mother baked for him once every year.

     “You may open your eyes now.” Her voice sprawled with grandeur and she clapped her hands in triumph as the boy let his fingers down.

     Armitage’s heart beat faster, a huge smile fractured his stony demeanor of confusion, and his eyes sparkled in delight as they landed on a shiny platter of dense Puff Cake; a delicacy that only his mother knew how to justify.

     “I baked it especial for you today.” The lovely woman reached over and cut out a bulk slice. “Sadly, it is a bit overdone, but I had to attend my other duties while this one was in the oven.”

     The beguiled cadet shook his head as the pastry crunched ever so slightly under the kitchen blade and flopped onto his plate with the softest thump. “Perfection.”

     “You humor me, I know it.” She chuckled and severed her own slice -though it was significantly smaller.

     He returned a quiet laugh through his nose as he eagerly dug into the cake and scarfed it down.

     “You are eighteen today, Darling, this is to congratulate you.” Her voice wavered, sounding equally joyous as it did sorrowful. “It’s a real accomplishment that not many of the boys in your profession get to experience; as depressing as that is. You’re a grown man now.” She paused. Long enough to make her son wonder and lift his head to meet her gaze. “No more the little curious boy that came and found me in the kitchen all those years ago.” She laughed at the flash of memory. “Remember how you introduced yourself?”

     He rolled his eyes in embarrassment. “I wish I could forget it.”

     With a smirk, he sat up straight and began to quote his puerile words from the past. “Hey, you’re the kitchen lady that I saw at the hospital, right? I was going to be dead that day, wasn’t I? It’s a good thing that my father brought you in to save me, huh? He’s the Commandant of the whole Academy you know; it’s a pretty, big deal. And I’m his son. My name is Armitage Hux; which makes me a pretty, big deal too. I bet you were really honored to give me your blood, huh, lady? Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you when _I’m_ the Commandant; you’ll always keep your job here as a cook.”

     He scoffed. “Rude little scoundrel I was indeed.”

     “You were blunt, Darling, not rude. I thought it was quite adorable how you would stay after lunch every day and provide such interesting conversation while I cleaned the counters and washed the dishes.” She giggled. “You were so serious for a little boy. Oh, no games. No games at all!”

     Armitage shrugged, stuffing another spoonful of cake into his cheek. “I liked to stay focused on the tasks at hand. Play was a distraction. I never could grasp the point of indulging in such ridiculous actions. War is reality, and one must equip himself with a solid knowledgeable foundation as soon as he is competent enough to carry a blaster.”

     She smiled. “I said it back then, and I’ll say it again now. That ideology comes straight from the mouth of your father.” She waved a finger at him and raised her eyebrows. “Stay true to your training, yes, loyal to the cause, but also keep an open mind when it comes to molding your own opinions. That’s what makes an officer great. The ability to follow orders can be found in the most mindless stormtrooper, but add the strength of thinking and acting on your own accord? Those are the type of men who triumph over war.”

     They both remained silent until their dessert was consumed. Armitage leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and smiled at his mother. “Thank you, Mother. It was absolutely delicious, I expected nothing less of course.”

     She stood to gather the dishes. “Well, thank you for the compliment, but I thought it rather too dry.”

     “Nonsense.” He immediately jumped to his feet, taking the load from her hands and brought the pile to the kitchen sink. “It outshines every pile of slop the Commandant’s wife has ever managed to concoct, by far.”

     The bright haired woman burst out laughing, almost knocking the dishes from his grasp with the emotion. “Oh, you poor dear! Why don’t you just come and live here with me? At least then I’ll know you are being fed properly.”

     He returned her amusement and shook his head. “I’ve been wanting for that for years, Mother, but Father won’t have it; said that it would absolutely terminate my chances of graduation.”

     Her laughter ceased, and the smile dimmed. “Of course, Darling, I was only joking around.” She rubbed a reassuring hand through his hair and kissed his cheek. “Your becoming an officer is as much a priority of mine as it is yours. Speaking of which, how are your grades? Are you teaching the class yet?” She giggled as they retreated to a comfortable sitting room.

     “Actually, there has been an interesting turn of events.” He flopped down into a plush chair and crossed his legs. “Father has agreed to let me compete in his program, the Commandant’s Cadets.”

     Her features turned grave. “I know of the CC. They say it is one of the most ruthless and violent simulations at the entire Academy.”

     “Oh, but it’s not just another simulation, Mother, it is a fierce competition that weeds out the weak and promotes the iron-willed. If I am successful, which on that point you know I will be -how can I lose to any of those moronic halfwits?”

     “They were smart enough to get themselves accepted to the program, Darling, don’t overlook that bit.”

     He waved away her comment and continued without pausing to comprehend what she had said. “If I earn the title, I’ll finally show Father the expert skill set I have to offer. Maybe then he will develop some prideful thinking on my behalf.” The young cadet leaned forward in excitement. “He’d be a fool not to graduate me early and then, once I am an Imperial officer, I’ll be off to the naval fleet; you’ll be at my side the entire way and we can be rid of this wretched place forever.”

     She pursed her lips, leaned into his face and placed her hands over his. “It all sounds so wonderful, Love, but how do you propose to win? Isn’t there some sort of hardship you must endure first? From the stories I’ve heard…challenging death is involved.”

     He slumped back. “Well, yes that is part of the test. In order to succeed I must quite literally eliminate the competition.” He smirked. “But please don’t fret about it! I did not come here tonight to worry you on such morbidity. I’ve already come up with a marvelous plan of action that is never to fail.”

     The woman felt her stomach twist with a growing pit of concern. “Oh, dare I ask what it is you have devised?”

     “Simple.” He gave a quick glance over his shoulder as if to catch an eavesdropper and lowered his voice into a whisper. “Poison. I’ll just slip it into my target’s plate while he’s distracted and watch in delectation as he grants me passage into the CC.” With an air of prowess, he folded his hands and nodded his head.

     The sweet woman tried desperately to hide her horrified expression, but the effort was fruitless. “That sounds…painful, Darling…and frankly quite cruel.” She scrunched her nose and racked her brain for a comment that expressed her trouble while remaining supportive. “Perhaps you could figure a cleaner, less violent way of competing? What about a quick blaster bolt? Wouldn’t that be more efficient anyhow?”

     His pride died away as she squirmed, and he instantly regretted bringing up the topic at all. “It’s…It’s not allowed. See here.” He pulled the official rules from his pocket and let her handle it. “The deed must be done in secret or else I’ll be disqualified and jailed.”

     She read over the paper with widening eyes. “I see, so basically this tells me that your father has now lured you with this new opportunity that leaves you only two options of escape.” The volume of her voice rose, and her cheeks flushed.

     He closed his mouth in confusion.

     She huffed and angrily tossed the folded page back into his lap. “You must be the winner or else you will be killed; either by a fellow gullible child or the guards of the brig. You mark my words when I tell you if that Commandant has you facing the firing squad, I’ll murder him myself!” She fumed. “and it will be done _with_ a burning blaster bolt!”

     An awkward silence seeped into the room, punctuating their conversation and chilling the air.

     Armitage slowly slid the official rules back inside his pocket and cleared his throat. “Mother?”

     She blinked away the rise of furious tears and forced a smile at his timid voice. “Oh, Darling, I’m so sorry. I-I just worry about you. Your father will never understand what it is like being the parent of such a gifted young man.” Wrapping her arms around his shoulders tightly, she sniffed. “You are the reason I’m living; your life is my life. Am I to be blamed for wanting to preserve that? No.” She pulled away and smirked, staring deep into his misty eyes. “What are you thinking? That I love you too much? I think so too.”

     Armitage felt his heart cringe and the familiar painful lump in his throat formed. _I love you._ Those words were meant to be returned but never once in the countless times the woman had spoken them did he find the courage to follow suit. It just didn’t set right within his mind. Something about the tradition of it seemed inappropriate for his character. Perhaps it was because the family he had been thrown into discouraged such intimacies with a vengeance and had marked the feeling as a festering weakness? He did love his mother, of course, boundlessly, but expressing the notion verbally was impossible; almost fake. No, he would much rather show proof of his love than say it.

     Immediately, he flung his long arms around her, pulling her back into the embrace and squeezed tightly. “I need to do this, Mother. After I earn my way to the top things will be different, I promise. A great deal of respect comes with the title. No more will I be known as Armitage, the Commandant’s mistake. I’ll be Hux, member of the esteemed CC and the youngest graduate in the history of Arkanis Academy.”

    She sighed in defeat.

     “I was going to strike sometime tomorrow during the program’s briefing session and was hoping that you would be present to watch me succeed, but if it truly bothers you-”

     She pulled away only slightly to look him in the eyes again. “For you, Darling, I’ll be there early.” With a small smile of play returning to her face, she rolled her eyes. “Your father will likely instruct me to cater the event anyway; I’m certain of it.”

     He laughed. “It means the world to me for you to be there.”

    “I know.” She released him and stood. “Look at you. My boy, so grown up. Words cannot describe how proud I am of you, of the man you have evolved into.”

     His grin grew wider and a warm sensation surged through his veins.

     Hours passed, and Armitage found himself lost in thought as he helped his mother with the dishes. Staring blankly at the wooden cabinet above the sink, his eyes glazed over as his vision traveled to the probable future.

     “Don’t you agree that it is such a silly name for someone of such power?”

     His mother was parked at his side, taking the plates from his hands and running her dry rag over them, she was sure to stack them neatly atop the counter. Apparently, she had been deep in conversation with him for the past five minutes, about what subject, he had no clue.

     “I’ve heard some speak of him to being even stronger with the force then the Emperor was. Imagine that.” She went on, not seeming to notice the lack of response. “If that rumor’s true then there remains the question of why he didn’t join the cause and revolt against the Rebellion? Why wait until now to emerge from the shadows? Perhaps if he had, Palpatine would still be with us.”

     Armitage dreamily handed her a fistful of silverware. Methodically he was formulating the basics of his burglary attempt on his sister’s deadly gift. It had to be done that night, but how? How could he orchestrate the result of its absence being unnoticed?

     Suddenly his thoughts were obliterated by the unsettling touch of some gooey substance running through his fingers. With abhorrent disgust, he instinctually flung his hand backward and gasped. A loud metallic clang vibrated the countertop as he flailed.

     “Darling!” The bright-haired woman laughed as she took his hand to calm him down. “It is alright! You just stuck your fist right into my mixing bowl!” With the clean rag, she wiped the viscous ooze from his fingers. “The bowl I used put together the ingredients of your cake. I decided to leave it out to be used again for there was still quite a bit of batter left in it.” She trolled to the opposite side of the shocked cadet and began to sop up the spilled mess he had created.

     “Oh! I-I’m so sorry, Mother, that won’t happen again. I must have just thought it was in with the pile of dishes.” He tried the excuse, but instantly knew it was not tangible.

     She held the rattled container up to his eyeline in all its overflowing flair. “It is fairly obvious that this dish was still being used, Darling.” She kindly let out a giggle to let him know just how trivial the matter was. “Where was your mind? Usually you are so observant and alert.” She reached across his arms and turned the water faucet on. “It’s bewildering sometimes just how keen you are.”

     “I don’t know. I was thinking of tomorrow.” He hated bringing up his father’s program again and swallowed slowly as he watched her wet down the sticky countertop.

     She surreptitiously shook her head. “Oh, yes. It is a very big day. Are you nervous? Excited? Maybe a bit of both?” She winked at him and forced a smile.

     In all honesty, he felt none such emotions about it. The killing was going to be the easy part. However, it was the aftermath -becoming an official CC member, that brought on the feeling of crippling anxiety and doubt. Would it truly earn him the rights to his father’s pride and acceptance? Or would it simply grant a fancy new uniform and title to be mocked like all the others?

     Armitage turned around to lean his back against the countertop. “Actually, I feel extremely confident about the matter. It’s just the task of kneading out the kinks that has me so distracted.”

     “Ah, I see.” The delightful woman plopped the soggy rag into the sink and joined him against the counter. Leaning her soft head on his bony shoulder, she sighed. “If there is anything that I could help with. I’ll gladly give my opinion and advice.”

     That was exactly the reason why he did not want to discuss his methods since they had not wavered from the idea of poisoning. It was the only way he could see fit. Flawless, fatal, and hardly traceable.

     He sighed heavily, pressing his ear to the summit of her orange locks, and mumbled. “No, this is one thing that I am going to have to figure out for myself. I _am_ a man now after all.” He chuckled.

     “Stop pouring salt in the wound!” She hit him gently on the chest and pulled away with a yawn. “Is that really the time already!? My goodness, I’ve been having such a wonderful time with my son that I completely let the night slip away. I’m going to get you into trouble, Darling, they are bound to deem you MIA.”

     “I’d much rather spend the time here with you than alone in that torture chamber, Mother.” He turned to flip off the kitchen light switch, when his eyes fell upon the remnant cake ingredients that had been dumped in his clumsiness. One item drew in his full attention; the square package of powdered sugar. It was blueish in color and the consistency replicated Woollahra’s Lexonite.

     That’s it! With a sudden devious grin stretching over his face, he snatched the pouch and pivoted on his heel; the excitement burgeoning within his mind. “Mother, may I have this!?”

     “The powdered sugar? Of course, Darling, everything in this house is yours as much as it is mine. But just for curiosity’s sake, may I ask why?”

     “No, I’m sorry, there is no time for explanations! I must go! Thank you, Mother, I will see you early tomorrow morning to help you with the catering!”

     “Oh!” Was all she was able to get out before he scrambled out the door and into the rainy darkness.

     Armitage had forgotten his uniform jacket in his rush, but he tucked the bag of sugar under his shirt to keep it somewhat dry. The epiphany that had hatched in his brain upon spotting the sweet-tasting compound was perfect, but he needed to act immediately, or else the opportunity would be lost forever, and his entire plan would crumble.

 


	7. Two Paths, One Choice, and No Turning Back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage faces a difficult choice with an unfair consequence. Woollahra learns what her parents are behind their masks. The Commandant's relationship with his son takes a turn for the worst, and the violent paranoia begins.

      Four low beeps of the Commandant’s passcode and the metal house door slid open soundlessly. Armitage held his breath as he glanced around in the murky dark. The slumbering silence was the only thing to greet him. He carefully dashed up the stairs, treading lightly on only the carpeted segments. His lungs burned for relief, but the boy was determined to make it to his room before the possible man lurking in the shadows had time to pounce.

     It was not until he was upstairs behind his locked door did he grant his body a fresh breath. With slightly shaking hands, he removed the package of sugar from its cloth umbrella and placed it down upon his bedside table.

     In the bleak darkness, the rain-soaked cadet removed his sodden uniform and cursed himself for leaving the jacket behind. Draping the garments neatly overtop his window sill, he fluffed his blazing hair with a towel and covered himself again in a fresh warm pair of dark nightclothes. Turning back around, he eyed the resting bag of sugar. Glancing from the bag to the door, he convinced his whirring mind that his chance was fleeting. Now or never…

     With the speed of a cunning fox, he snatched up the sugar, along with an empty rank canister that he’d kept in the nightstand drawer and tore silently into the hall; slipping into the inky blackness that was his sister’s chambers.

     He stood, hunched over, at the foot of her bed and watched her unconscious figure as she laid motionless under the heap of quilts. The girl’s heavy breathing was barely audible, and Armitage could not help but welcome the thought of just how closely she resembled a tiny cadaver in the swelling shadow. His face twisted into a look of fulfillment as his mind relished the idea. The darkness about it seemed so delicious, so tempting. Like an old friend, comforting and familiar.

     Suddenly, he shook his head as his memory jogged and he continued with his intended purpose.

     The vial of deadly Lexonite had been put on display for all to become envious of atop the girl’s bedpost shelves. Armitage clenched his teeth to stifle his cry of irritation once he noticed it was so far out of reach. She had to have used her mother’s stepladder to get it up there. The idiot girl must have been afraid that her brother would steal it and supposed that more altitude would bring security.

     She was mistaken. With more caution than he had ever shown before, the tall boy raised his leg to one side of the plush mattress. As he did so, the slumbering Woollahra stirred. Her eyes remained closed tightly and her mouth shut, but the blankets swallowed her up as she shifted positions.

     His heart was beating in his brain as he stood frozen with one bare foot off the floor. The nervous sweat from his forehead was beginning to run down to his nose and his muscles screamed as he restrained them from movement.

     When the girl settled back down and became like the dead again, Armitage breathed slowly and lowered his leg. Being sure not to step near the sleeping body, he straddled the mattress and stretched out his arms to reach for the infamous blue bottle.

     A sudden flash of wild lightning framed the window and illuminated the entire room. For an instant, the thieving cadet could see the pale spotted face of his younger sister lying peacefully between his feet. She looked so vulnerable, so trusting that no one would take the ample opportunity to eliminate her while she slept. His grip tightened around the poisonous vial and his mind spiraled into sheer darkness as he stayed his loathsome gaze on the defenseless child.

     Again, her small body twitched; her arms fluttering beneath their covers in search of a comfortable pose.

     In an instant, the ominous glaring light was obliterated with a crash of thunder that gobbled it back up into the black clouds and the image of the dormant girl was erased.

     Armitage, summoning all his stealth, swung his leg over the side and hopped to the floor. His landing produced a low thud which made him wince in alarm. After waiting a tense moment to see if Woollahra had been aroused, he straightened his back and swiftly began to unscrew the vial of blue poison. His fingers were slick from sweat and rain, and the throbbing in his chest aided in the difficulty, but in mere moments he had struggled the powdered poison into the gray rank canister and refilled the vial with his mother’s sugar; the quiet hiss from the deed filled the room with noise.

     Swiftly clamoring back onto the oblivious child’s box spring, he replaced the imitation poison vial perfectly -as if it had never been touched and fled from the shadowy room.

     A gaping smile of arrogant success seized his features as he hid the poison canister and crawled under the covers of his own bed. “Tomorrow.” He whispered and closed his eyes. “They will finally meet the man they have to fear.” The comforting thought lulled him into a deep dreamless sleep.

     Classes the next day lagged by at an insufferable pace. Armitage groaned at the clock as the seconds passed like hours and the hours like years. His mind could not focus on the blabbering professor, it was locked on the little gray canister that he had hidden in his pocket. The new silk pocket on his new black uniform. The dark fabric clashed brilliantly with his flaming hair and gave him the air of confidence he needed to perform his assassination attempt.

     He had found the fresh garments folded and wrapped in a plastic sheath at the base of his door that morning. There had been no note or explanation, but he soon found out the importance of the clothes change when he began to notice only members of the CC nominees wearing them. By tradition, a cadet’s conversion of outward color meant that his current rank had been promoted.

     Slowly the time tick, tick, ticked by until the highly anticipated stroke of twelve cut off the monotone instructor’s repetitious lecture mid-paragraph.

     Armitage was the first one to the door, pushing and shoving his way out. He could feel his heart beat clogging up his ears as he made his way through the maze of hallways and corridors to the Academy mess. He glanced around frantically for the beautiful woman with orange hair.

     His green eyes widened with concern as the rest of the Academy’s cadets poured into the cafeteria and took their seats according to rank. A quick twinge of ire tickled his spine as he spotted Woollahra and her crowd of annoying cronies. She pointed and waved; her group following in the friendly gesture.

     He returned with a snarling glare, then turned away to find his mother. Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of black entered the hall. He snapped his head around and recognized the black silk clad cadet to be Tritt Opan. Soon, another boy dressed in an identically dark uniform appeared, shook hands with Opan and remained to engage in typical conversation.

     Armitage’s blood rushed rapidly through his body. The anxious dread was starting to freeze his limbs. He had to locate his mother now! Before Brendol steps in and commands him to join the program briefing.

     “Darling, there you are!”

     A sense of serene relief washed over him at the sound of that voice and the bright haired boy spun with a grin. “Mother. I was looking for you. Where have you been?”

     “I was a bit late, wasn’t I? I’m sorry, Darling. I was on my way, but then I remembered that my clumsy son had forgotten half of his uniform at my house last night and I had to go back and get it.” She winked at him. “But I see you didn’t need it in such emergency.” Gesturing to the boy’s crisp black garb, she nodded. “You look so handsome and grown up in black.” With a loving hand, she raked her fingernails through his blazing hair; brushing it all back and making sure the grease he had put in it earlier was accomplishing its prestigious purpose.

     Armitage savored her touch and bent forward to ease her reach. “Thank you, Mother.”

     “Well, I should think the youngest most brilliant officer in the Academy would want to look his best for his subordinates.”

     The corners of his mouth twitched. “No, I meant for returning the jacket.”

     “Oh. Right.” She giggled. “It’s in my locker. After your session with your father, I’ll bring it in to you.”   

     His eyes gleamed in gratitude before becoming distracted by the thick oval object in her hands. “What is that?”

     “These are the highly coveted materials for your CC briefing.” She displayed a small covered platter that she had been clutching. “I told you that I would be the one to receive instruction to cater this thing.”

     “Highly coveted? Why?”

     There was a moment of silence. “Come. I will explain it to you. But not out in the open for all to see.” She turned on her heel and strolled into the busy kitchen. “You have a few moments to spare for a little worker woman, yes?”

     “For you, Mother, I’d neglect my entire life.”

     “I know you would, Darling, but no! You must become an officer! That is what all of this is for, right!?”

     “Yes, Ma’am.” He laughed.

     She set the platter down and removed its cover to reveal six metallic drinking cups; all the color of scarlet, except for one. The largest and the most expensive looking gray cup bore the image of the Empire’s symbol.

     A strong odor of fermentation stung his nose as Armitage hovered over the dishes. He inhaled deeply and looked back to the lovely woman in surprise. “Is this what I think it is?” A smile began to creep over his face.

     She nodded with a frown. “Brandy. Yes.”

     He licked his lips and held up the wide gray vessel; it was full to the edge. “Alcohol?”

     “I never cared for the poison”

     His mind sparked at her metaphor.

     “I could never grasp its allure. If it were up to me, you boys would be getting a nice vacation as a reward instead.” She glanced out the round kitchen windows and spied the Commandant gathering his CC nominees around one table.

     “So, it is meant as an award?” Armitage, still ogling the tall cup, relished the idea of drinking a man’s drink before any of the others in his rank.

     “Indeed. Though I don’t understand why your father runs the risk of letting a horde of violent drunken youths run amok.”

     He rolled his eyes joyfully and after a moment, he spoke. “I’ll take the gray one. It is sort of suiting don’t you think? The tallest, the most elegant, the one that stands out from all the rest.”

     The beautiful woman chuckled and took the cup from his hands. “You will have to settle for one of the red ones I’m afraid, Darling, that one is reserved.”

     “Reserved!?” He watched as she arranged the display to be as appealing as a group of cups can be.

     “It is an officer’s drinking cup. Tritt Opan is graduating the Academy at the end of this semester and by rule he is to receive a commemorative accolade for his achievements.”

     “So, this…officer’s cup is going to Opan? Solely?” The gears in his mind were beginning to grind, and his heart fluttered.

     She nodded. “I’m sorry, Darling, you will get yours soon enough, I promise. Even if your father neglects to order one for you, I’ll steal it.” She made an absurd face, (looking as she imagined a thief would) and turned away to retrieve a stained apron from the wall rack and tied it around her hips.

     When the woman’s back was turned, Armitage hastily tore the lethal canister from his pocket and ripped off the cap. Flicking his wrist, the dexterous cadet sprinkled a hefty amount of the blue poison into his self-proclaimed protector’s cup; surely enough to kill. It sizzled for a moment but soon dissolved and he swiftly thrust the vial back to its hiding place.

     He looked up to meet his mother’s returning gaze and innocently threw his arms behind his back.

     “You need to get out there.” She nodded to the door. “I love you so much, Darling, but duty calls.” With that, she lifted the entire platter to her eye level, balancing it with her right hand.

     “Mother, let me carry it for you.” He reached out to take the heavy dish from her but was gently reprimanded.

     “No, Darling! I am used to this sort of service. You run along to the meeting before your father expels you.” She gave a sarcastic kick to the seat of his pants, urging her son to run ahead.

     “Alright, Mother, alright.” He bit down nervously on his tongue as he jogged over to the round table to join the other nominees.

     “Hux, you made it!” The loud mouth of Tritt Opan greeted him. “We were starting to think that you’d chickened out like the rest of them.” He pushed a chair out with his boot. “Have a seat, your pop said he’d be back in a second.”

     Armitage took a breath and accepted the chair. His heart was still pounding, and his mind was spiraling with excitement. His diabolical plan had been set in full swing. Nothing could hinder his imminent success now, nothing! This ignorant blabbering imbecile seated across from him was about to die an honorable death for the greater good of a fellow future officer, and the most wonderful aspect of it all was that not only would stubborn Brendol witness it, but his mother was here too -just as she promised.

     He puffed out his chest with pride and triumph as he fought back the overwhelming swell of his cheeks to beam in delight.

     Suddenly, in looking back toward the bustling kitchen, everything stopped. The buzz of conversation, the pulse of burning excitement, the thrill of triumph, even his heart stopped. (For a moment.) Armitage stared, frozen in unforeseen terror, as his loving mother and the detestable Commandant’s paths collided on their way over to the session.

     “Oh, Brendol! I mean Commandant Hux, sir.” The shocked kitchen woman adjusted her grip on the platter of drinks after almost dropping them all.

     The gruff man glared down at her in awkwardly mild anger. “Oh, it’s you!?” He looked her up and down; eyeing her slender form. “Glad to see you obtained the memo I sent out about the brandy. Never thought we’d get a chance to talk alone again…not in this close of range at least.”

     She rolled her eyes and attempted to push around him. “I need to get these to the boys if you please, sir.”

     “What’s the rush?” He grabbed her roughly by the arm, causing another close call. “Come now, we haven’t had a moment like this in ages.”

     She turned her face away from his salacious gaze. “That is because it was ages ago when you stole _my_ baby away from me!”

     His grip tightened around her soft bicep. “He was never _yours_ to begin with! You are a kitchen worker, a maid! It is part of your job to labor for items you don’t own, you carry out deeds for people who give you no credit.” He scoffed. “That baby I instilled into your womb all those years ago was no different; a task of simple incubation.”

     She could feel the pain of tragic memory squeezing her throat and her eyes flooded.

     “But that is enough about Armitage, I can see he is upsetting you.” Letting go of her arm, he moved his hand up to the platter of drinks and wrapped his fingers around Tritt Opan’s prize. “Forget about the boys, they can wait another day for the briefing. Why don’t you bring these marvelous refreshments to my private office where we can share a drink or two; like old times? I promise it would be most entertaining.”

     The woman’s cheeks turned several shades of red at his lewd offer and her tears dried. “No! You are a married man! Be it happily or not, somebody needs to uphold your vows!”

     Brendol Hux chuckled uncaringly. “That is a highly amusing excuse. The notion never seemed to bother you before.” He caressed her chin with his rough fingers and stepped inaptly closer.

     “I was led to believe otherwise before!” Feeling the cold ring belonging to another woman scrape across her cheek, she tore her face away. Her hands were sweating as she yanked the platter from the beastly man -losing the new officer’s cup to his clutch and sped off toward the group of waiting cadets.

     As he watched her go, the unnerving sensation from a cold glare of shocked disappointment bore through the back of his skull causing him to turn in search and meet his daughter’s gaze. With a humph, he prudently sloshed the officer’s cup in his hand, letting his smile die and unconsciously lifted the rim to his flaccid lips.

     As the Commandant did so, Armitage shot up, sending his chair screeching across the floor.

     “It is all right, love.” The embarrassed kitchen woman reassured her son with a quiet voice as she approached. “Sit down. I can handle that man and his vulgar ways.”

     The boy retrieved his chair and seated himself rigidly straight as his mother bent over the table to serve the group their adult beverages, though his eyes remained locked on the poisoned vessel lathering his father’s esophagus.

     “I will have to order you a new officer’s cup later this week, dear.” The light-haired woman regarded Tritt Opan with shameful regret.

     Suddenly, a sharp metallic clang rattled through the entire refectory hushing all conversation and pulling all eyes to the regal Commandant. He had dropped Opan’s drink in a jerking reflex of pain and shock. The brandy spilled out, splashing brownish liquid along with an odd foaming substance across the floor.

     Brendol felt a dizzying blade tearing through his mind, blurring his vision, and jarring his senses. His limbs became stiff and every muscle in his body cramped. The excruciating burn where the liquid had touched, trailed from his tongue all the way down to the pit of his stomach where it festered and boiled like overheated acid.

     Instantly, the man worried the crowd as he lurched forward, bent over -wedging his head between his knees, and vomited with such a severity that blood began to ooze from his nose. His heart drummed in his throat and the color drained from his face as his stomach relentlessly ejected the blue frothing matter that had attacked his system.

    All were stunned and rooted to their seats as the scene unfolded. A final violent quake took hold of the Commandant’s formerly strong body and threw him to the ground. This solid turret of a man was sent crumbling down, smearing through the splatter of bile as his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing reduced to a slow wheeze.

     Three veteran officers went rushing to his side and hoisted the unconscious man off the floor.

     “Make a hole!” The distinguished officer known as Edrison Peavey -one of Brendol’s former comrades in the war, screamed. “Men, get a stretcher! Bring Hux to the medical facility immediately!”

     Armitage was paralyzed. His mind numbed, and his heart trudged on with explosive beats. A dull ring echoed through his head and he felt as if he would fall over at any moment.

     He watched in horror as the experienced officer skirted the edge of the blue foaming puddle. Armitage felt his own stomach coil and moan as the man stuck a gloved finger into the slop and lifted it cautiously to his nose. _Nigel Six._ He mouthed the words to himself and his face hardened.     “I want this place put on lockdown! Everyone on high alert! Someone here has deliberately poisoned the Commandant!” He held up his wet finger for all to see. “The man or woman responsible used Lexonite! Which means we only have a few hours to save his life!”

     Armitage shifted his straining eyes to his mother in extreme worry that she would somehow detect the true culprit.

     The woman was staring motionless, her mouth agape like all the rest. It was obvious that the shock of the situation had blocked any suspicious thoughts from entering her mind just yet.

     Barking hysterical orders like a rabid alpha dog, Peavey organized the entire regime into a single file line. “Each and everyone of you will report immediately to your assigned barracks! Further instructions will be given momentarily! Go!” He nodded to a group of commanding officers and they began the escort.

     Armitage squeezed a shaky hand around his mother’s elbow.

     She whipped around with a start. “Darling! What is this all about!?”

     “I have no idea.” He bit his lip with the words. He hated lying to her. “I’m sure he’s made plenty of enemies who would love to see him dead.”

     “No talking! Back in line, Cadet!” A gruff officer shoved hard on the redheaded boy’s chest and pulled his mother away. “Workers and staff will report to their positions for a detailed interrogation!”

     Nary allowed a parting gaze, he was funneled through the crowded doors.

     The remorseless rain hammered down upon the unprepared regime as they were slowly shuffled out of the Academic building. Armitage was still a nervous wreck. Just imagining what was to become of him after the Commandant passed and the commanders discovered the identity of his murderer was enough to permanently drain the blood from the distressed boy’s cheeks.

     “Hux!?” There came a hissing whisper from behind.

     Armitage craned his neck to look over his shoulder. The hot breath of Tritt Opan mixed with the icy rain water running down his back, irritated him beyond comprehension and he sneered. “What?”

     “That kitchen wench said that your father took the drink that belonged to me, right?” His voice shook with knowing concern.

     The redheaded cadet growled, his temper flaring at the crude comment about his mother. “Yes! I believe she did say that, Opan!” He turned back around to face the shoulders of the man in front of him. “Fancy that. I suppose somebody here doesn’t want to see you graduate. You saw the toll that poison took on our precious Commandant, just imagine what it would have done to you! A man of your stature would have dropped dead instantly.” Without granting a second more for the conversation to continue, he disrupted the marching line and forced his way to the front row.

     Upon approaching the housing sector, his eye was caught by a sudden blur of excited movement ahead in the distance. He squinted through the falling sheets of rain to make out the shapes of two people. One he recognized right off as his wretched sister. But what was she doing? Following someone? Begging? Why? He gave a quick glance to the leading officer and dashed out of line when he was not looking.

     Splashing through the mud and rocks, he found himself in the presence of his frantic sibling and the elder officer Peavey.

     “Sir.” He saluted the man with pretentious respect.

     “Armitage!” Woollahra let go of the older man’s hand and flung her arms around her brother’s waist.

     The boy flinched as she did so and instantly pried her off, throwing her down into the mud.

     The girl cried out in pain. “Armitage! There is no time for this!” Her tears distorted her voice and she hobbled back to her feet. “We have to save Father! Captain Peavey says he is dying! Don’t you care!?”

     Peavey rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh.

     “Of course, I do!” The boy grit his teeth and lied with all his strength giving fleeting glances to the officer’s eyes. “I-I want to find the rat who did this just as much as you do!”

     “Do you know what Lexonite is, son? How deadly its effects can be?” Peavey glared at the cadet with festering impatience.

     “Yes, sir, I do. In fact, I believe that I’ve seen it on this planet recently.” A smug grin began to creep across his cheeks and he turned his gaze to his younger sister.

     Woollahra’s face paled and her eyes grew wide.

     “It’s closer than you think.”

     Edrison Peavey let his gaze slide to the panic-stricken girl and his eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea what he is talking about, recruit?”

     She chewed desperately on her lower lip and whimpered as the tears leaked over her cheeks. “Yes! I have some! But I didn’t poison my own father!”

     Armitage pulled away from her in mock surprise. “Didn’t you though? You are being quite defensive about it.”

     “Shut it, Armitage!” Peavey silenced the arrogant boy with a snap of his fingers. “Woollahra, I believe you. Take me to it!”

      Thunder crashed above as the three entered the Commandant’s abode.

      “What is the meaning of this intrusion!?” Maratelle jumped up from the couch and threw her hands to her hips, training her furious gaze on the tall ginger-haired boy in assumed allegation. Slowly, her eyes slid to the cadet’s escort.  “Edrison?”

     The older officer grimaced. “There was an assassination attempt at the Academy. Your husband is in critical condition.”

     The ugly woman’s jaw dropped in shock and she immediately fell back down to the cushions.

     “Somebody spiked his drink with Lexonite from Nigel Six. A very dangerous substance that has the potential to kill in mere-”

     “I know what it is, Captain!” She stood and barked at the man.

     Armitage recognized the white-hot ire glowing in her eyes from his childhood and braced himself for the bruising impact that usually followed that look. To his surprise, however, she passed by him and seized Woollahra roughly by the arm.

     “What have you done!? I warned you not to open that vial unless it was absolutely necessary!” She delivered a hard smack to the girl’s cheek and yelled. “You despicable child! I never should have trusted you with that weapon!” Again, she swiped the girl across her reddening face.

          Armitage winced at the painful sounds filling the room and instantly beamed in delight as his sister wailed in agony taking her most undignified, yet well-deserved beating. _More_! The word rang through his mind like a broken record as he watched with clenched fists and fought the need to join in. _More_!

     “That is enough now, Madame!” The captain shot out his arm and caught the woman before she could land another blow. “I am convinced that the girl had nothing to do with this!” Throwing her backward, he puffed with the effort.

     Armitage’s shoulders fell. Why did he stop her? Those meager slaps were hardly adequate to discipline that brat.

     Woollahra dashed away to her room in a fit of hot tears; though not before catching the satisfied gleam in her brother’s darkening eyes.

      A moment later, there came a screech of defiance and she reentered the room with the poison bottle in hand; full to the cork.

     A wave of confusion came in as a cloud and all fell silent.

     “Let me see that, girl.” Peavey took the blue vial from her and held it up to the lamp for examination.

     Armitage could feel his uniform sticking to his back as the nervous sweat boiled over through his shirt. He swallowed the growing ball in his throat and breathed slowly through his nose, struggling to keep a calm composure.

     The officer’s eyes narrowed, and he had begun to fiddle with the cork when suddenly, the outside door slid open with a furious hiss.

     “Father!” Woollahra sprinted over to the bedraggled Commandant who stood with both arms locked for support on the sides of the entrance.

     “Hux!” Captain Peavey dropped the glass bottle in his astonishment; Armitage quickly snatching it before it shattered. “You are awake! But what are you doing here? You need medical attention, Sir.”

     “Those idiots are insane! They don’t have a clue what they’re dealing with. I’d be dead by their hands before the poison ever reached its peak!” The gruff man slurred, still heavily under the influence of the poison. Using his loyal daughter as a crutch, he staggered inside and flopped onto a stiff couch. “Maratelle!” His voice wheezed, and the stale stench of bile polluted the room. “Get the bloody antidote!”

     Armitage’s face contorted into pure disgust as he watched his father writhe and groan. The man coughed loudly, threw his head forward and dry heaved. Thank God there was nothing left in his stomach. The boy blinked as Maratelle disappeared to obey her husband’s command and returned almost instantly with the reversal drug.

     “Get out, Peavey! Who gave you permission to invade my home!?” Brendol ripped the medical syringe from his wife and stabbed the needle into his arm. The motion causing another attack of violent gagging; blood spurting from his raw nasal passage.

     “Sir, I made it my top priority to locate your assassin amidst the chaos and arrest him. I came here for it seems that your daughter is the only one on this planet with the means.” He lightly gestured to the bottle in Armitage’s palm; which the boy compliantly displayed.

     The Commandant’s eyes widened, his gaze falling on the overstuffed blue powder vessel. “You dare to accuse my children of capital offense!?” His face flushed with anger and his breathing quickened.

     “Oh, no, sir, I was only being thorough. Never once did I think her capable of such treason…Once I heard that she was in possession of the Lexonite, I-”

     “Are you blind!? That bottle has never been opened! The powder has not been touched since it was extracted from the mines!” He waved a furious hand at the vial and roared. “Lexonite is one of the easiest poisons to obtain on the dark network! Anyone could have smuggled it through our atmosphere!”

     He moaned as the injected cure sliced through his veins. “I should demote you for this! My children have been brought up to be flawlessly loyal, they do what they are told without question and would never dare turn on me! They know better! I would not think twice about having them executed otherwise!”

     The captain gulped. He knew that he had made a mistake in tangling in the matters of family and winced as his enraged comrade bellowed out insult after insult.

     “No, Edrison! It was not Woollahra who did this thing!” He took a deep breath and winced as he felt the antidote gurgling and burning within his core. “I know who it was indeed!” He gave a pointed glare to Armitage making the cadet stiffen in horror.

     “Yes, sir.” The captain bowed. “Tell me who you think it was and I shall see to his apprehension immediately.” He gestured the action with a tight fist.

     Brendol glared at the man for a terrifying few moments, until the anger inside had outgrown his control. “I _know_ who the culprit is! And I will personally see to it that they are punished; once I regain my full strength!” Grabbing a fistful of the pillow he had been resting on, he whipped it at his comrade with outrage. “Now, get out! I am in no mood for company!”

     Armitage, positive that he would gain his father’s approval, slammed the buttons on the door’s keypad down and waved an authoritative hand at the captain as it slid open.

     Peavey’s eyes narrowed, granting the boy a glare of mortification -to which was challenged by an arrogant smile, and slunk out into the rainstorm. As the man brought his hand up to shield his face from the fierce weather, he nearly rammed into another body that had appeared on the Hux’s doorstep.

     “Oh, excuse me, Captain Peavey, sir!”

     Armitage perked up at the sound of the voice as it triggered mixed feelings of joy and terror. Mother? What is she doing here!? It’s not safe!

     Peavey grunted and grumbled in response to the intrusive woman and quickly left the premises.

     “Hello?” The lovely kitchen worker spoke in a timid tone, almost mouse-like in manner. “I-I’ve come to deliver a parcel to Dar- _Armitage_ Hux.”

     No! Armitage felt physical pain claw through his gut upon hearing that swearword roll off her usually sweet tongue.

    “Who is it!? What do you want!? Did you not just hear that I detest the thought of seeing anyone today!?” Brendol roared. “Armitage, tell her to step inside for God’s sake, I can’t continue yelling through the door like this! Can’t you think for yourself yet!?”

     The boy flushed with embarrassment that was chained to the insult and reluctantly invited the lovely woman inside with a despairing whisper.

     The soaked kitchen worker entered with an air of uncertain confidence that was immediately threatened by the loathing stare from the Commandant’s dangerously jealous wife. “I-I am so sorry to intrude, Brendol, I-”

     A furious growl emanated form Maratelle’s throat and she stood in venomous rage. “That is ‘Sir’ to you, filth!” She corrected with a bitter snap.

Armitage’s mother jumped and nervously returned the woman’s gaze. “I believe that this belongs to… your son.” She bit her tongue to refrain from using the word ‘our’ in such company. Holding out the neatly folded gray jacket, she carefully placed it down on a low rising side table. In doing so, she accidently knocked the blue poison vial Armitage had discarded there to the floor. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry, sir.” Quickly, she knelt and returned it to its place on the table.

     Brendol’s brow darkened and his teeth bared. His sudden accusatory gaze shifted from the bottle, to the woman, to the bottle, then back again to her face, the vengeful look of hatred twisted his features, making Armitage extremely uncomfortable.

     Anxiously grinding his teeth, the redheaded boy hurriedly bobbed his head up and down. Clicking his tongue, he grabbed his mother’s damp shoulder and speedily spun her around, ushering her back toward the door. “Thank you, very much, _Madame_.” His voice caught on the word and his breathing hitched upon feeling as if he had just cursed her with the atrocious formality. Sucking on his dry tongue he guided her outside. “I was missing that jacket. It was good of you to return it to me.” He secretly interlocked their fingers and squeezed her hand with all the love in the world to act as an apology. “Now, you’ve done your duty, so please return to your dorm. The Commandant does not wish to see anybody at the moment.” The words flowed out of his mouth in rapid bursts, expressing his desire for the awkward and dangerous situation to dissipate as soon as possible.

     “Oh, yes.” She noticed the Commandant’s menacing stare had become fixated on the tender hold Armitage had created and quickly wriggled her fingers out of his hand. “I know how important it is to have a fully functional uniform for the exams and Academic graduation.” Realizing she was not supposed to be privy to such a notion, she stammered. “W-Well, I can only imagine it is important…p-perhaps I am mistaken, and the cadets are allowed to display casual wear.”

     Armitage cringed and wished that she would just stop talking.

     Alas, the woman’s nervous demeanor did not permit such relief. “I know how important it is for you to have it in your possession, Darling… Armitage… Young Hux.” Biting down on her bottom lip, she utterly regretted the decision to return the jacket.

     A lurch of horror discolored his face and Armitage licked his chapped lips at the sound of his real name. Glancing over his shoulder, he met the nocuous glower of his stepmother as she stood in the doorway. A paralyzing pulse of fear tickled at his spine as he felt her eyes on the back of his blazing head.

     “Get that filthy courtesan out of my sight, Armitage, you gutless whelp!”

     The disparaging tone she spit at him tore at the ever-constant wound that had been inflicted upon him as a child and he swallowed hard. The stress and horrible anxiety of the situation was beginning to seize control of his mind and lock away his sense.

     With every step they took, his grip tightened around his mother’s arm. His breathing came in quick bursts and the ache in his head pounded against his brain remorselessly.

     “It is alright, Darling. Breathe. Breathe slowly.”

     Armitage’s lungs burned from overuse. He did not hear his mother’s whispered advice, but the fact that Maratelle had been screaming obscenities at his back the whole time only added to the storm and fueled his potent rage.

     “Darling,” The loving woman turned to face him; attempting to soothe his angst-crazed state, yet only worsening it in turn.

     His eyes went berserk, filling with a cold, dark, and frightening force. “Stop it! Go! Go now!” Losing control entirely, he shoved the kitchen woman along the path with more force than he had meant. Immediately the savage action snapped him out of the emotional trance and he groped at the air, trying to catch her somehow. Gasping in deplorable repentance, his heart froze over as he watched her stumble in the mud; smacking her head off the rocky ground with a terrifying thump. “Mother!” He whined helplessly.

     “Get back inside, Armitage, the rain is flooding the house! She’ll find her way back alone!” It was the commanding voice of his irritated father.

     His heart raged wildly in his chest, screaming for him to help her and pull her into his arms, press a kiss to the painful bruise at the base of her skull; but the truth of what punishment they both would endure with publication of such intimacy overruled that vital impulse. He struggled to regain ownership over his trembling body and with his mind full of festering adversity, regretfully turned his back on the fallen woman.

     “Close the door and scramble the keycode!” Brendol let his head crash back down to the couch with an explosive sigh. “Perhaps then the traffic in this place will finally be discouraged!” Another wave a nausea squeezed his mind and he draped his arm over his eyes with a moan.

     After being ripped inside by his father’s evil wife, Armitage frantically dashed to the window and nudged aside the blinds to watch his mother escape through the pouring rain to the safety of her home. His fragile heart was being throttled by the pain and his throat felt as if it might snap from the balled-up tension.

     “Why is she still here, Brendol?”

     Maratelle’s grating voice caught the boy’s attention and he came away from the window with a glare of growing contempt.

     The fatigued man laid with his face half-hidden and groaned. “What now?” Slightly lifting his arm, he granted his wife a glance of sheer annoyance.

    The woman pointed toward the locked door. “Why is that…that…mistress of yours _still_ here!?” Her fists tightened.

     Brendol Hux took his arm away in complete confusion and gave her a look of absurdity. “What the hell do you mean? ‘Why is she still here’ she is gone! Your son threw her out just now!” He worked his aching body into a painful sitting position.

     The room shook with a sudden outrage that easily put the planet’s thunderstorms to shame. The tone of mutual hatred rung true as the two yelled: ‘He is not my son!’ and ‘She is not my mother!’ simultaneously.

     The ill man closed his eyes tightly with a groan and silenced both with a deadly bang upon the innocent metal side table; flinging Armitage’s gray jacket to the wet floor. “The point is that the kitchen woman has left and will not be back!”

     Maratelle shot a stinging glare to the ginger teenager before continuing in a much quieter tone. “You are missing my meaning, Brendol. Why is that horrible being still here? Still breathing! With all that she has done to us!” She gestured a spiteful hand to the tall thin boy. “This scandal has absolutely ruined our family! It nearly ended your career when word got out!”

     “Not that many people knew about it!” Brendol retorted with a snarl.

     “There were enough, Brendol! And frankly, I still don’t feel entirely comfortable within my own social groups because of it. Because of her!” She threw her arms up and rolled her eyes as her husband settled back down and covered his face again. “I hate that woman! Get rid of her! I’ve had all I can take and if you refuse I will find someone else to do it!”

     The Commandant fell eerily silent.

     Armitage’s heart skipped in gripping alarm as he stepped closer to his stepmother and thrust a vicious finger in her face. “That woman has done nothing wrong! Nor will she ever! There is no dirt on her record that gives you any right to reprimand her for anything!”

     The nasty woman swatted his hand away with a biting smack. “You stay out of this, Ignorant Scum. Your entire existence is proof of her crime. I am the Commandant’s wife, regal, respected by all, and powerful beyond your comprehension. You are nothing; just like that disgusting courtesan.” She harshly took him by the chin and patted his smooth cheek. “A cockroach.”

     He grimaced and flipped his face away from her patronizing grasp. “ _I_ don’t respect you, and neither does he.” Pointing to her husband sprawled across the couch. “My entire existence is proof of that fact.” He punctuated the argument with a clever smirk.

    She growled. “What a blessed world that would be. The name of Hux would be virtually free of blemishes if you were not attached to it.” Her black eyes squinted, and she wrapped her fingers around his pressed collar, crinkling it in a sadistic fashion. “I wish that the hardship of giving birth to such a demon as you had killed her, _Armitage_.” Shoving a sharp elbow into his chest, the woman removed him from her path and knelt by her husband’s head.

     “Brendol, fix your mistake. Send Woollahra tonight while the wench is dazed, she has plenty of Lexonite to play with.” She planted a kiss to his forehead and vacated the room.

     Watching her leave with pure hate in his green eyes, Armitage’s gaze fell on his little sister, who had been silently curled up in a corner, and fought back the fit of anger that had been ignited within his core by the girl’s mother. With a quick motion, he bounded over to the front door and furiously banged on the keypad.

     “Armitage!” The girl jumped up and tugged at his arm. Her face was bruised and throbbing from her mother’s brutal misunderstanding. “Where are you going!? Don’t leave! Please!”

     “Get off me, girl!” He pulled his arm away and screeched. “Didn’t I tell you to stop touching me!?”

     “No! Please just stay here with me! I don’t want to be alone!” Her body was shivering, and the tears overwhelmed her wide eyes.

     “Get used to it! Loneliness is life, especially when you are the personification of arrogant idiocy!” The bright-haired boy shook his head and opened his mouth to insult her further when their father sat up a second time.

     “Enough!” His voice sounded like an explosion. “Woollahra, stop that sniveling! You are a soldier! Go to your room and don’t come out until you have learned to repress such ridiculous emotions! And Armitage, I don’t know what makes you think that you can abandon your duty and defy your curfew every night, but no more; I’m putting my foot down on this one.” He rolled his arm over and pointed at a specific spot of floor in front of him. “Come away from the door. Now!”

     Woollahra obeyed their intimidating father immediately while Armitage, quite aggressively remained still.

     The Commandant waited a moment for his son to obey then outwardly cursed him when he did not comply. “Be grateful that I currently do not have the strength to beat you into submission.” He growled. “Tell me honestly, how did the kitchen woman come by your uniform jacket?”

     Armitage shuddered. With a horrible stutter, he shrugged his shoulders and furrowed his brow. “I-I might have taken it off in the mess hall and just forgotten about it.”

     “I warned you not to lie to me!” He snapped. “I know for a fact that you have been slinking away to indulge in your surreptitious meetings with her. I’ve seen it first-hand.” The man’s lie struck a wave of fear

     He closed his mouth and let his mind flutter with billowing worry.

     Brendol glared for an eternal moment before nodding in decision. “Becoming close to someone is a disgusting habit that aids only the weak and inept. Surely, if you are wanting to be removed from the Commandant’s Cadets and expelled from the Academy entirely, forfeiting all chances at graduation, then yielding to a relationship of any kind is a grand solution.”

     Armitage blinked away the rise of pain and sorrow and glanced toward the rainy world outside where his mother had vanished from sight. He knew without a doubt where this conversation was headed.

     “Look at me, cadet! When I speak, your eyes are here!” He brought two fingers to his face and winced with the stinging motion. “The blasted antidote is worse than the poison.” His murmur was easily heard. “It’s degrading to have the regime see their Commandant’s son wasting time with such low lives as the hired staff!”

     “More like good people who have been enslaved by your order.” The boy turned his head and muttered the risky reply.

     “What did you say!” The sickly man sprung to his feet, feeling an unpleasant rush in his ears as he did.

     Armitage’s eyes dulled in timid dread and he shrunk back against the door. “I apologized, sir. You won’t catch me stalking around the kitchen dorms again.” His hands began to quiver, and he shoved them behind his back to hide the obvious lack of confidence.

     The towering figure came closer, standing over the red-haired cadet with an ominous presence. “I had better not.” He slapped a hard hand to his son’s shoulder making the boy flinch in foreboding anticipation. “If I do, I will not think twice before setting you back in your grades and rank.”

     Armitage turned to look up at the snarling man and opened his mouth in gruesome astonishment. “What do you mean? I’ll be retaking the tests I’ve already done this semester? Did you see them? I-I aced every single section!” He bit down on his lip in hope that the man was not serious; though via experience, he knew that was never the case.

     “Armitage, if I do see you and that orange-headed kitchen tool together again, if you have the gall to look upon her in… _love_ , I promise you will be assigned a seat next to Woollahra during her rank’s lecture sessions by the week’s end.” He snorted at the shocked boy and returned calmly to his uncomfortable couch. “I can see the headline now: **Armitage Hux, the first and only failure of Arkanis Academy.** You should kiss the title of Imperial Officer goodbye now and save some time.”

     Armitage twisted his face into a mixture of regret and despair. He wanted to find his mother and make things right between them; an apology was required in the very least. However, he desperately needed to graduate and earn that title otherwise his years of training and all that he had to live for would become utterly meaningless.

     His muscles tightened, and his fists clenched. “No! I will graduate! My entire life I have strived to make you proud, Father! Please do not set me back. I’ll prove my value, I swear it!”

     “Stay away from that woman, Armitage!”

     “I will! Just please allow me to remain a part of the top rank!”

     “Enough of the pleading, it is unbecoming.” The man laid his throbbing head down and closed his bloodshot eyes. “Now, leave me in peace.” Waving away the panicked teenager, he drifted off into a drug induced slumber.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was pretty long. But it's getting good right? (Please say yes, haha)  
> The next one is lengthy as well, and brings us to the climax! That will be here on Monday. And After that I will be posting the remaining chapters once a day all week, so stick around for that!


	8. Darkness Flows Thicker Than Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the heart breaks, nothing is ever the same again.

     There was an awkward air of intense uncertainty during the family’s breakfast gathering the following morning. Brendol Hux had been the last of the household to join. His features were still unhealthily pale, and his muscles ached, but the process of recuperation, aided by the constant flow of injected antibodies, had been working overtime.    

     Armitage had not left his seat at the table since the evening before. His eyes were a crackling red and they burned from the lack of sleep he had received in enduring such an incessant night born of remorse and wretched misery. Thinking of his injured mother, all alone in her dorm with only her inadequate coworkers to console her tears and calm her mind, caused endless pangs of crushing regret to stay his wakefulness. When, and if, he had had the misfortune of passing out from exhaustion, vivid nightmares haunted his brain with visions of her harrowing distress; instantly screaming him back into his painful consciousness.

     It came as no real surprise that Maratelle was still fuming from the incident of yesterday afternoon and refused to acknowledge the thin redhead’s presence. Angrily she bustled around the room, serving her atrocious morning meal to each family member except him.

     Armitage watched in cynical hatred as the horrible woman interacted coldly with her beloved daughter; examining her purple cheek and prescribing her own methods of quick-healing. He noticed however, that she never once apologized for the violent outburst and acted as if she deserved every bit of forgiveness that Woollahra stupidly presented.

     He scoffed and looked away. Hearing his empty stomach’s rumbling cry for food, thoughts of his loving mother came flooding in again; he cursed himself, imagining her face. Poor woman. What have you done? How could you have been so cruel to such a gentle creature? She was only trying to help and calm you, Ginger Demon!

     Again, his stomach tightened with tremors, seeming as if it was trying to agree with his self-loathing, and he sighed. Would she ever forgive him? How could she? The deed was vicious and there existed no pliable excuse for his actions. Surely, the situation had summoned his guardian and allowed that darkness to have momentary dominion, but even so, it granted him no right to treat her in such a way. Like a nuisance and a meaningless life…

     “Armitage!”

     Brendol Hux’s loud voice broke through the boy’s cloud of heart-rending regret and lifted his head.

     “Have you heard a single word I’ve said!? You had better pay attention, boy, unless you fancy an ordered detention sentence.”

     The cadet pursed his lips, biting hard at the inside of his cheek and shook his head slightly. “Do forgive me. What is it you were saying?”

     Glancing to his wife with a straining eye roll, the Commandant brought his one-sided conversation back to the start. “As of yesterday, it has been made clear that this Academy apparently acquiesces to anarchy and ruin. Don’t you agree? The lethal attempt made on my life, has brought a disturbing issue to my attention and it must be dealt with immediately.”

     Armitage nodded. “Oh, yes, I agree most definitely, Sir. What is our problem?” His mind still reeling with worry and guilt.

     “It is obvious that the name of Hux has become suddenly benign. The fear and respect that it once held, no longer a factor.”

     “What can we do to rectify this problem?” His interest had been peaked; anything to pull his mind off the subject of how he had brutally attacked the only being he ever loved.

     Brendol smirked. “I have a plan, and it involves you.”

     Armitage blinked, utterly taken aback. “Me? Why?” His astonishment was displayed plainly across his weary face.

     “We shall be hosting a public execution on the final day of this week and I am giving you the order to lead the firing squad. If that does not reinstate fear into their hearts, nothing will.” He spooned at his meal and slurped quietly.

     Armitage’s heart thudded with eager excitement. “Who will be the unfortunate targets?”

     Brendol swallowed, shrugging his wide shoulders. “Prisoners, deserters, spies, and traitors. All who have already been admitted into the brig.”

     “Father,” Woollahra’s piercing voice chimed in uninvited, “why does Armitage get to lead the firing squad!? Why can’t I do it!? I’m just as good at military tactics as he is; better even! Mother told me so!”

     Armitage’s upper lip curled in contemptuous scorn and he spitefully kicked her beneath the table.

     “Ouch! It’s true, Armitage!” She stood and pointed a childish finger at him. “Father, he kicked me! Punish him again!”

     “Oh, sit down and shut your lying mouth!” The girl’s brother banged his fists on the table making her breakfast splash out and splatter on the floor.

     “Armitage!” She whined. “Those were my cream oats! Now what am I supposed to eat!?”

     “Woollahra!” Brendol barked. “Sit down! I was having a conversation with your brother! You were not permitted to speak!”

     Armitage shook his head. When will this annoying girl learn to grow up and stop picking fights that she cannot win?

     The dark-haired child lowered herself to her chair and quieted her voice. “Father? Why does he get to lead the execution?”

     “Because I said so! Is that not enough!?” His gaze returned to his son and he flung his hands down. “Do you see? This is exactly the type of insolence that I am talking about. It is the defiance and questioning of my authority that will be the ruin of this Academy _and_ the Empire if we do not correct this type of behavior now!”

     “Yes, Father,” Armitage rose in respect and gave the man an honorable salute. “Together, we will show those disrespectful curs what a Hux man is capable of and drive them back into submission.”

     Brendol nodded. Standing to shake the boy by the hand, he scoffed at the look of accomplishment on his youthful face. “You will be required to recite a speech that I will compose for the occasion and then when I give you the go ahead, you give the order to fire. That’s not too overwhelming is it, boy?”

     “No, sir!” He beamed in delight; all feelings of guilt and regret fleeing from his mind. “I shall give the speech and order their demise with such flawless precision-”

     “What did I tell you about promising success before its imminence is certain?” The Commandant cut him off and turned away. “Three days from now. Dawn. Do not disappoint me.”

    Armitage could feel his heart jump into his throat as the excitement drowned his perpetual sorrow and replaced it with vigorous purpose. This was the chance he had waited his entire wretched life for. A chance to prove himself publicly and graduate knowing that he was indeed the most valuable officer the Empire had ever known.

     Once again, it was time to report to the Academy mess hall for the midday meal and Armitage had taken his seat in his usual fashion; alone and silent. Though, there were many other cadets chattering around him, he did not engage in conversation. His mind was set on one person alone: the lovely kitchen woman with the glorious flaming locks.

     He watched her with gnawing regret as she raced around the kitchen preparing food, correcting orders, and training the newcomers. She was one of the most perfect human beings to ever attend this cursed Academy. Armitage’s green eyes pined for her, his ears aching to hear her sweet voice again. The imperative need for her touch made his skin crawl; like a stubborn itch that could not be relieved without it.

     He smiled as she dropped a plate and thousands of salad croutons rolled across the floor. Throwing her hands in the air and yelling at the younger staff member who had clumsily bumped her arm, the woman thrust a broom at the girl to clean the disaster.

     Wishing he could rush over to calm his mother’s frustration, Armitage let out a shaking moan. Love truly is a drug and the withdrawals of having none were tearing his body apart. How could he remedy this excruciating restraint? Leaving her a note with an appointed time and place would be ideal, but then his father had eyes everywhere. And currently all of them were trained on the ginger cadet. Armitage felt as if he could not take a single breath without it being reported to the devious Commandant. No, secret meetings were indeed out of the question. Unless the boy was willing to forfeit his militant destiny.

     There must be some way to cheat, there always is. Every situation has a loophole. A scenario that no one prepared for. Armitage stood his metal fork on end and tapped it curiously against the tabletop while he racked his brain for the answer.

     Suddenly, his attention was pricked by a flashy object beside him.

     Tritt Opan had been prattling along with four of his classmates about sheer nonsense for the past thirty minutes, but now his conversation had turned into something of interest. The young man had pulled a glinting retractable pocket blade from his black jacket and was showing it off with pride.

     “Where did you get that, Tritt?” One of the boys asked. His eyes filling with envy. “She’s a real beauty.”

     The other three agreed in their own ways and Tritt grinned, holding it out for all to ogle. “It is a gift for my graduation. One of the staff members gave it to me.”

     “In consolation for the incident at the CC briefing?”

     “Exactly!” He laughed.

     Armitage eyed the knife and his mind began to animate and revel at the marvelous cheat that had been presented.

     “What happened with that whole thing anyway?” Opan’s companion snorted in wonder. “Is the Commandant’s Cadets program still on? It took me six months to finally get accepted you know!”

     “Yeah, I’m not sure about that.” Tritt scratched the back of his head and sighed. “No one’s said anything. Have you heard anything, Hux?” He looked toward the redhead whose eyes were glued to his new trophy.

     “No, of course not!” Armitage finally snapped. “An attempt of murder was made on the Commandant himself! Do you really think he trusts anyone to attend his society now?” The boy scoffed. “May I see your pocket knife?” Without waiting for proper permission, he swiped it from the young man’s fingers and examined the blade closely.

     Armitage knew exactly how he was going to seize the chance to visit his mother, but it was going to take a stunning performance and a great deal of pain. His eyes shifted past the blade and settled on her beautiful form. Now laughing with the clumsy assistant, her orange hair bounced and furled with ecstatic grace… She was worth it.

     “Hux, I didn’t say you could have it! I’d like it back now if you please.” Tritt Opan’s voice deepened with irritation and he banged his open palm on the table.

     Armitage glanced excitedly to the place where his father sat; empty. The man had undoubtedly gone to use the facilities again (aging is a curse) and therefore abandoned his threatening guard. This was the moment to act! There would not be another!

     Instantly, the young cadet thrust his colleague’s possession between his knees for leverage and beheaded the sharp blade from its body with a loud crack.

     “What are you doing!?” Tritt felt the rush of shock and anger pulse through his veins as he watched this young moron destroy his brand-new weapon. Shooting a hand out to grab the pieces away from him, Opan gasped.

     Armitage had torn the metal shard out, letting the handle clatter to the floor, and turned the dangerous tool on himself.

     “Hux!? Have you gone mad!?” The young man stood and backed away, pulling his friends along with him. “Drop it! Drop the knife!”

     Ignoring their yells and insults of concern, Armitage lifted the sharpened blade up to his mouth and expertly carved a small slit on the inside of his upper lip. The pain burned, and he clenched his teeth together as red, hot blood began to seep over his chin.

     Tritt let his mouth hang open. “Someone go and get the man at the infirmary! Quickly!” he pushed at one of his comrades. “Go!”

     “No!” Armitage stopped the boy in his tracks with the word. “I’m fine!” He winced with the waves of pain that came with every pulsing heartbeat. “Really it was just an accident. One of the new inept kitchen assistants must have dropped the small knife in my bowl.” With those words he buried Opan’s blade amongst the leaves of his untouched salad. “See the bleeding has stopped already.” His eyes watered as he lathered his finger in salt and stuck it to the cut on his lip. “I’ll just go order a new meal.”

     “You have gone crazy! Hux, I just saw you cut yourself! All of us did!” Opan pointed a shaking finger at the boy.

      Suddenly, Armitage’s face grew abnormally dark, almost lifeless in nature. “You all watched me bite into those leaves and cut my mouth on a hidden hunk of metal that had been accidently dropped. Nothing else.” He took his hand away from his lip, being sure that the spout of blood had indeed been snuffed and nodded. “Otherwise, I will seek you out and silence each one of you permanently.”

     “You can’t kill a brother in arms!” Tritt’s loud-mouthed friend challenged.

     “Who said anything about death?” Armitage took the blood-stained bowl and headed for the kitchen doors.

     His heart rate sky rocketed as he left the frightened cadets behind and approached his destination. He delighted upon hearing his mother’s innocent laughter behind the entrance, and it brought on a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

     He was just passing by the lavatory when suddenly, the _Men’s_ door swung open. A striking bolt of terror impaled his racing heart and swept away his confidence in one fell swoop. His eyes grew wide and they burned as the wall that was Brendol Hux towered over him.

     “Where are you going, Armitage?” The gruff man crossed his arms in front of his chest and growled suspiciously.

     They boy’s breathing caught on a lie, and his bloodied tongue dried out. “I-I” His body trembled with the rush of fear warming his neck. “I only needed the restroom, Sir…tha-that’s where I was bound.”

     “And you brought your meal bowl with you for that?” His eyes narrowed, and he tipped his nose downward, growing impatient.

     Armitage swallowed another arid gulp and stammered rapidly. “W-Well first I was going to complain to the kitchen ladies about the mistake they made and order a new salad-”

     “What happened to your face!?” The Commandant roughly grabbed him by the jaw and tilted his head upward; forcibly squeezing the boy’s mouth open to look inside.

     Armitage winced and clamped his eyes shut in pain as the harsh motion reopened his clotted laceration. “The salad…” He managed to burble out as the sour tasting blood dripped onto his tongue. “There was a sharp piece of metal that had been overlooked.”

     Brendol grimaced, letting go his bruising grip. “Metal!? Let me see it!”

     With a sharp exhale, the redhead shoved his finger back into his mouth to stop the painful flow and flinched as his father tore the clinking bowl from his grasp.

     Instantly, finding the pointed knife, Brendol Hux pulled it out for a closer examination. “Oh, she is an admirable devil.” The words were spoken softly and in a tone of vulgar offense. “Taking us out one at a time, eh?”

     The young cadet stared up at the Commandant in nervous confusion. “Sir? Who is?”

     After a moment’s contemplation, Brendol threw the blood-stained knife back into the bowl and barked at his son. “Clean yourself up! Classes start again in five minutes! I will take care of this situation.” Shoving the boy toward the restroom door, he turned to head for the kitchen; bursting through the entrance with the force of a raging bulldozer.

     Storming into the bathroom, Armitage faced one of the large mirrors. He met his own image and glared at the disgusting sight. With a roar of bitter resent, he violently crashed his knuckles into the reflection’s bloodied mouth. Glittering shattered fragments flew across the tile floor, smashing into serrated glass shards that crunched upon impact.

     He had had one chance to see her. One chance! And now it was gone. Blown to smithereens! Just like this mirror… All that wasted effort and time spent plotting had been ruined once again by the same dastardly man! And what was there to show for it? Only an awful bleeding injury that potentially could take weeks to heal! How could he have missed the fact that Brendol was due to exit the lavatory at any given moment? More importantly, why did it have to be _that_ exact moment?

     His heart thudded within his chest (a petulant rhythm) as he could feel the rise of loathsome emotion squeezing his throat and filling his nose. “Curse you!” He wet a clean hand towel and wiped the drying blood from his chin. “Curse you, _Armitage Hux!”_ He let out an undignified whimper as a pressure born ache arose, pounding and burning throughout his entire facial region.

     Minutes later, a blaring siren rang. Its piercing voice loudly announced the end of the Academy lunch period.

     Armitage left the now hazardous lavatory with a hardened look in his eye; though he could not hide the gleam of unauthorized tears that framed his vision. The kitchen was unnervingly dormant as he jogged by. No sound of dishes clanging, mops, sloshing, or women chirping. Only the quiet murmur of orderly cadets shuffling out into the halls could be heard.

     The boy was curious and severely fought the urge to peak inside, but he was already off schedule and knew that it would take an all-out sprint to make it into his next class, so he decided to let the question slide… for now.

     The eve of the execution grew infinitely closer with every passing hour, and Armitage still had not been spared a chance to tell his mother about the honorable responsibility that had been bestowed upon him. The frustration was damnable. His stomach twisted with every thought of her sparkling features. He missed her to no end. When would this torment cease!?

     A usual day at the Academy had turned into an unusual night at home, strangely enough the rain had stopped, and the ever-constant storm clouds had allowed holes for the stars to shine through. Moments of clear weather like these happened once, maybe twice a year at most, and were times of discomfort and abnormality.

     Armitage had retired to his room early. Claiming that he needed a full night’s rest before the morrow’s event. Four hours he had been sitting in the warm shadow by the window testing his memory concerning the Executioner’s speech that his father had composed. The boy’s eyes shined in the nocturnal light beaming down from the planet’s double moons. He glanced to the dense roadway that led to the housing sector of the Academy’s staff and sighed, sickening himself again with the rumination of his lovely mother.

     She must be very busy with the coming event tomorrow for he had not seen a single glimpse of her since the day his perfect plan had been thwarted. Was she working overtime to create a grand feast to celebrate the glorious victory that was to befall her son?

     He grinned at the charming intrigue and it heightened his senses. “Oh, tomorrow can not come fast enough.” Reciting his speech one last time to his transparent reflection in the glass, he deemed it flawless and flung himself onto his bed.

     It was bright; painfully so. The toxic rays of Arkanis’ wayward sun burned his eyes and singed his fair complexion. It was barely dawn, but the atmosphere had already become hot and airless. Sitting heavily in his strong lungs, the oppressive humidity clung to his face like a sweltering wet towel.

     Armitage blinked in the fierce sunlight as he stood, exalted, upon the Academy’s assembly platform. Holding his hand above his eyes as a shield, he gazed out over the growing crowd. His crowd. A burning thrill of excitement tore through his veins and caused his heart to pound. Everybody that inhabited the Academy grounds -soldiers, staff and civilians alike, they were here today. All of them waiting in the intense heat to revel in the glory that was a Hux version of capital punishment.

     As his eyes wandered, there came a growing nag of concern implanted at the back of his mind. Armitage scanned each face for his mother, recognizing nearly all except the one who he cared to see. (Woollahra was there… standing next to her mother in the front row, of course.) Tritt Opan, Captain Peavey, other members of his rank, the slew of commanding officers, even the old woman who served as his mother’s roommate were there…

     He shook his head, wiped the grease from his beading brow and let his exuberant grin dissipate. Where could she be? Why did it appear as though she had lost interest in him? How could she stop caring about him so suddenly? Was it because he had hurt her? If only he had had the chance to explain himself…to right his wrong.

     “Have you prepared yourself appropriately?”

     The redheaded cadet turned on his heel to meet the sweating Commandant and nodded, bursting with a sharp confidence. “Yes, Sir!” He straightened his shoulders, the grin returning to his lips.

     “Are you positive there is nothing to hinder your commitment to success?” The man’s brow darkened.

     “Well,” He hesitated.

     “I knew it! What is wrong? Speak up, boy!”

     “I looked out at the crowd, and I noticed that… well I didn’t see…”

     Brendol raised one eyebrow with a warning grumble. “You are hoping that your mother is out there?” He crossed his arms.

     Sheepishly, Armitage gulped and nodded.

     The hard Commandant’s level mouth twisted into a sly smirk and then vanished as quickly as it had come. “Stop clouding your mind with thoughts of that woman. Stay your focus on the task at hand.” Putting a heavy fist on his son’s shoulder, he shoved him along the backstage corridor and onto the grand outdoor podium.

     The garbled mess of conversation was hushed with the appearance of the young ginger-haired man. His shoulders rose and fell as a final nervous flutter wriggled through his limbs. Taking a deep breath, Armitage held it in as he combed through the mob with one last attempt to pick out his mother’s smiling face; oddly enough she remained absent.

     Brendol, following his son, had stepped to the center of the stage and saluted the mass of subordinates. Releasing the militant pose after it had been returned, the regal Commandant spoke in his usual booming voice. “We are gathered here this morning to reeducate ourselves with the reminder of what happens to those who cause disorder and wreak havoc within this Military Academy.” His voice echoed with burgeoning malice and he clenched his fists as he went on. “Some of you have become lax in your duties to uphold the vow of loyalty. My tolerance for such behavior is limited! The punishment you are about to witness is meant to put a stop to any thoughts of treason that may grace your minds. Heed this as a generous warning, else you shall find yourself beaten, bound securely, stripped of your sight, and forced to join me up on this platform of death!” Pausing a moment to let the threat take effect, he clicked his heels together and directed the crowd’s attention to the righthand side of the stage. “Just as they have!”

     Armitage stood with his feet together, turning to face the tattered and filthy bodies of the condemned as they fumbled their way up the wooden steps. His professionally trained mind pushed away any thoughts that did not have to do with the deed he had been ordered to complete; despondently forgetting about the truant kitchen woman.

     The prisoners shuffled single file across the edge of the platform at a depressing speed. Men and women, young and old, all wearing the tattered remains of their former respectable uniforms. The entire group had been dehumanized by a thick canvas sack that swallowed up their full head.

     A small smile of nefarious intent lit up his face, giving it a devious glow, as Armitage watched the prison warden pitilessly force each masked criminal to their knees. The rush of paramount power flowing through the cadet’s body gave him a high of pure elation. These lives belonged to him now. In this moment, each one of these poor saps had transferred their will and independence to his grasp. They had become nothing, purely ants under his boot, and with each fleeting second the initial stomp was drawing nearer.

     Brendol Hux waved his hand toward the opposite end in a grand display as the small horde of riflemen tromped up to take their over-rehearsed places.

     Armitage smirked. This group was his army. The mighty tools to aid in his quest for victory.

     “Before we begin,” Brendol stopped all movement. “Let us all participate in a moment of silence for the condemned.” He peeled off his cap, setting the trend, bowed his head, and waited until all was quiet again.

     “Armitage?” His whisper was barely audible.

     The boy opened his eyes in surprise. “Yes, Father?”

     “I neglected to mention this earlier, but…” He pulled out a slim pile of white envelopes from his jacket. “These are the final requests of the offenders. Whether they be granted or denied is the question. The decision is yours to make.” Stretching out his hand, he offered them gracefully.

     Armitage studied the whimpering group of disgusting outcasts, looking on them with individual scorn. “No. None of them deserve to feel a shred of hope.” He was determined to give the Commandant the right answer and believed that taking the heartless route was best.

     Brendol could not help but let a grin light up his cheeks for a split second. “Very good, Son.” He returned the stack to his pocket and stepped away. “Let the fireworks begin.”

     The praise he had gotten from his father boosted his stamina and energized his oozing confidence. Turning to face the small band of cowering bodies, he raised his voice, so all could hear. “Treachery! Arson! Desertion! Attempted murder!” The latter caused him to pause. “These are only some of the reasons why you are all here today!” He coolly paced in front of the lineup, listening to their fearful moans and cries presented him with a twisted sense of immense pleasure. “Your crimes serve as the definition of capital offense! The Empire has no patience for this animosity and will not succumb to such rabble! Therefore, I say to you now, spend your final moments in life wisely! Make peace with your god and pray that he grants you a merciful quietus!”

     He turned his back on the criminals and strolled to his place of command behind the row of armed soldiers. Struggling to hide the raging amusement that came with the sounds of panic and despair, he breathed out slowly; sweat streaking down his reddened face. “Gunmen, weapons at the ready!?” Thrusting his hands behind his back, he could feel the trembling quake of burning anticipation rise from his toes and settle in his brain. His breath came out in short puffs as his lips formed the words: “Aim!” Lifting one finger above his head, every muscle in his body became rigid and the darkness within his heart spurred him on with undeniable force.

     _“Darling! Stop!”_

     Just as the power-crazed executioner felt his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, this sudden screech dripping with tears of desperation rattled the locked gates of his mind and was savagely denied access. Perilously, it failed to create any impact in preventing his final command from bellowing forth and its owner was doomed because of it.

     “Fire!” Armitage had barely gotten the word out before the deafening crack of a dozen Blast-rifles all discharging at once sliced through the air, assuming an echoing dominance over the auditorium.

     An overwhelming ring berated his ears and the world dimmed, seeming to permanently switch to a state of slow motion. It was a shocking experience, the act of holding someone’s life in your own hands and crushing it with the fists of remorseless duty. Armitage felt numb, his brilliant mind became a blank slate as he squinted through the fleeting haze of gun smoke to watch the line of weary bodies crumble to the floor.

     Each criminal had received a fatal bolt of plasma through the chest. A gaping cascading hole crafted with impeccable precision, that had decimated their ribcages, obliterated their respiratory organs, and butchered their beating hearts upon impact. There they lay, bleeding, still, silent, dead… all of them.

     All of them, except one. Stubborn rogue! It was a middle-aged female. The brave one who had been first to set foot on the stage.

     Armitage watched in demented content as she writhed and wailed in potent agony; the bleeding fountain, formerly her torso, made short work of flooding the wooden stage. He was determined to let her suffer. Suffer the way he had been made to suffer his entire existence. His eyes glazed over as the internal darkness coaxed his mind into complete equanimity and he stood unmoving as she sputtered and gagged on her own blood; the crimson stream slowly drowning her small form.

     “Coup de grace.”

     The deep voice of Brendol Hux sounding from behind was instantly muted by the fog of depravity consuming the boy’s senses. Though Armitage swore he could detect a strange undertone of guilt in his father’s voice, it held no power in pulling his attention away from the living carnage.

     “Coup de grace, Armitage! Now!”

     It was not until the freezing barrel of his father’s blaster touched his sweating neck when Armitage was shaken out of his morbid state of entertainment. Glancing over his shoulder at the agitated man, he obediently took the gun from his hand. “Yes, Sir.”

     He knew what he had to do. One true shot through the brain would be mercy enough for a criminal so defiant in her ways. The miscreant was rebellious even in death.

     Armitage sated his gait with elegance, taking steady assertive steps across the platform. Loading the blaster and setting its charge, he approached the dying woman with vengeful authority. The deepening puddle of bright red liquid had grown too wide to avoid and he waded through it without hesitation; he’d have to wash his uniform later anyhow due to the profuse sweating he had endured. It would provide the perfect excuse to meet his mother and ask her to do it. She’d be delighted as always.

     The fallen woman sobbed fiercely as the excruciating pain from her lethal wound paralyzed her. Violently, she gasped for air as the blood spilled over into her single remaining lung.

     “Enough of the noise!” Armitage knelt beside her and nestled the barrel underneath her battered chin with hostile belligerence. “Show some dignity will you!?” Pulling the mortally wounded prisoner up by her shoulder, he bared his teeth. “Let’s take that ridiculous thing off shall we!? I want you to see the face of your killer and know that it was I, Armitage Hux!” He spit with the malicious action, grabbing hold of the damp sack and aggressively ripping it from her wilting head.

     The red-haired boy’s eyes turned to ice at the blinding sight of her face and his heart shattered as the vicious torment of shocking horror exploded within his bewildered mind. An insufferable eruption of tingling nerves screamed down the length of his entire body instantly causing his numbed fingers to drop his father’s primed blaster; uncaringly letting it sink in the lake of blood. His mouth flew open as he was brutally consumed by an uncontrollable shiver that burrowed deep into his core, twisting his stomach and wrenching his guts.

     “Mother!?” His voice cracked terribly, and he immediately choked on the hoarse breath that caught in his throat. Though her once beautiful face had become defiled from spending days at the mercy of those ruthless prison guards, he recognized her right off; that orange headdress of hers was unmistakable.

     The woman gurgled in response to his outburst and her eyes fluttered open. A wheezy breath slowly built up enough air to allow her an attempt at speech. “D-Dar…”

     “I’m here, Mother!” He shrieked, wrapping his deadened arms around her back, pulling her tightly against him.

     She moaned with the painful motion and cried. “I-I-I’m so proud…of you. T-The s-s-speech you gave was perfectly terrifying.” She desperately yearned to lift her hand to wipe away her son’s tragic tears, but the bullet wound had stripped her of the ability to control her limbs.

     Armitage inhaled sharply and let it out with an echoing howl. “I’m sorry, Mother! I’m so sorry!” The warmth from the woman’s gushing blood soaked his chest and seeped all the way to his knees; drenching him wholly.

     Her arteries hardened and froze as they drained. “P-Poor dear… you were… afraid that… I wasn’t going t-t-to be here to witness… the summit of your… success…” Her thin voice was horribly raspy, and it shook from the strain of allowing another breath. “Seems as though… I got… front r-r-row seating.” She began to smile, but the biting pain smacked the warm gesture off her face. The swirling black rim that threatened her vision was growing impatient and squeezed her consciousness.

     “No!” Armitage held her tighter, feeling her head begin to flop backwards, and thrust his hand to the thick jungle of orange locks to support her weakened neck. “No, Mother! Open your eyes!”

     “Thank you, D-Darling…” She deliberately disobeyed his command and sighed as the thinning flow of blood leaked from her paling lips. “T-T-Thank you…”

     “Stop,” He sniffed as feral tears blurred his vision, forcing him to blink them away. “Don’t thank me! I-I’ve just…I-”

     “Thank you… for c-choosing me, Darling.” Her whispering voice sounded more fragile with every word that tumbled out of her bleeding mouth. “For choosing… me to be… your mother.”

     His fingers dug deep into her flesh as he fought back the storm of emotions that had seized his system with her forgiving gratitude. Several loud slurps became the result of his ragged breathing through clenched teeth. “Oh, Mother,” He buried his face in the crook of her dripping neck. “Mother please don’t leave me… I have nothing without you… I-I am nothing… I-I-I love-”

     “It’s funny…y’know?” She mistakenly cut him off mid-sentence; obviously her hearing was all but gone for she had no sense that he had been speaking to her. “I-I was… the lucky one…”

     “What!?” He whined. “What do you mean? Mother, open your eyes! Please!” His panic-stricken tears mingled with the dreadful ooze of her blood and Armitage hated the feeling of it smearing across his face, covering every inch of salty skin.

     “I-I-I…” Her breathing slowed. “I… was… the… only…one… to… have… my… final… request… granted…” She paused to take another drowned breath, but her last lung had been spent. “You.”

     Merely a second passed before Armitage felt her small body grow heavy as it fell against his trembling shoulder and he shuddered. His broken mind became glacial and with a sense of vacant loss, he slowly leaned forward to lay overtop his mother’s cooling body. Still hiding his face amongst her lifeless orange hair, he floundered helplessly in a forsaken and despairing fit of sobbing agony.

 


	9. Once a Boy. Now, a Monster.

     “Get up, Armitage, on your feet, Soldier!”

     The heartbroken boy did not budge when his putrid father kicked him in the ribcage.

     “Every eye in this place is watching you! Sniveling cur! Cease this indignity at once! That’s an order!” He thrust the toe of his boot into the mourning cadet’s side again with an extra brute force. “I gave you one simple task! Lead the execution! Direct the company when to fire. That’s all! And yet, you continue to prove my assessment surrounding your competence, Armitage. You are a failure! An embarrassment to my corps, to the Academy, and to the Empire! Completely undeserving of the Hux ancestral prestige! A ridiculous, repulsive, revolting disgrace...”

     Armitage stopped listening to the atrocious Commandant and tuned out his rant as he suffered the man’s ferocious bone-cracking blows, bent on clinging to his mother’s gray form for as long as he could stand it.

     Suddenly, the chilling sense of a mean and daunting presence loomed over him like a bleak shadow born of hellish intrigue.

     Glancing through the sweaty curtain of his blood-soaked bangs, his reddened eyes met the infernal snarl of his wicked stepmother. When did she join him on the stage? Apparently, as the shocking scene had unfolded, the entire multitude of bemused people had been allowed to grace the platform and witness first-hand just how useless their comrade truly was.

     “Do as your father commands, and stand to your feet, Slime!” Maratelle scowled at the abhorring amount of blood that coated the errant boy and stained his skin. “Look at you, unsavory wretch! You two were meant for each other. Worthless… Weak…” She spoke in a quiet but cruel voice, rolling aside the limp head of the departed kitchen worker with her toe. “Disgusting.”

     Armitage could feel his splintering heart struggle to keep up with its own meager beats. This was a new form of pain; one filled with volatile and emotional torment. It was a barbaric sensation that he had never been exposed to before. The experience and introduction to heartbreak was a brutal and traumatizing event indeed. Helplessly, the miserable boy bowed his head to the horrible villain and closed his eyes in defeat.

     “I’ve always hated you! Both of you!” She reached down, grabbing him roughly by his slick red hair and wrenched his neck backward; pointing his tear-stained face toward the blinding sky, and focusing his gaze on her face. “The only reason Brendol brought you into our home was to punish that cursed thieving kitchen woman for what she had done!” She harshly released his head and let loose a condescending smirk, gazing upon the cold, lifeless body at her feet. “I’ve waited nearly twenty years for this day. To watch in jovial satisfaction as this miserable wench met her end. I must say it was quite the pleasure to attend. A show well worth the wait and hassle.”

     Instantly, Armitage clenched his teeth and flexed his fists in fuming rage. The terrible realization struck like a bullet through his brain that for the past few minutes he had been wallowing in grief on his knees before this sickening woman; as a submissive pup whimpering at her feet. She had been basking in and absorbing every second of her triumphant glory concerning his unimaginable pain.

     The heroic darkness within his jagged soul emerged as an inky black cloud that consumed his every sense. Spreading to every pore, every crevice of his natural being, it acting as an emotionless tourniquet for his crippled mind. Promptly hardening his green eyes and drying up their endless wells, the cloud ossified them in hate. His obliterated heart began to throb under the heated pressure of potent anger as it was salvaged from his storming emotions and forged into a black, unbreakable fortress. His pulsing brain short-circuited, becoming transfixed on murderous destruction as the swell of condoling darkness dethroned his sense of compassion and replaced it with a savage love of hostile rancor.

     With a vicious pounce, Armitage leapt to his feet. Foul droplets of sweat and blood sprayed over those within the vicinity as he latched on to the arrogant woman with a ferocious roar and twisted his shaking fingers around Maratelle’s narrow throat.

     The horde of bodies surrounding them, screaming and bellowing out horrified profanities into the dry air, drifted into obscurity as the untamed darkness flowing through the young man’s veins burst forth in a bloodthirsty outrage.

     Gnashing his teeth together with vigorous contempt, Armitage tightened his malicious grip with inhuman strength and relished at the sensation of the suffocating woman’s heartbeat hammering against his palms. It seemed almost as if the life organ itself was within his mortal grasp; only inches beneath her paling skin. He stared directly into her eyes and gave her a demonic smile as he imagined just how close she was to choking on death.

     Maratelle clawed at his face, gurgling terribly as she kicked at his lean form and tore apart her muscles in attempt to get away from the insane predator; all to no avail. The young man’s iron determination, aided by a dark loathing that had been collecting over the years of abuse, shielded his mind from the inflicted pain and gifted him with a powerful focus. She felt the shocking crunch of asphyxiation as it seized her brain and reduced her desperate defense to a death-like state of bare consciousness.

     “Stop it, Armitage!” Woollahra’s shrill cry fell on deaf ears and she bolted over to the two, plunging her fists into her brother’s bloodied torso. “Let my mother go! She didn’t do anything wrong!” Again, she thrust a furious blow that went ignored.

     Armitage grunted, his arms were beginning to shake with the vigorous force that was being exerted upon them. He strengthened his fierce hold until he lost all the feeling in his fingers as they cut deep into her neck. An increasingly violent yell exploded from his black core as he bent her over backwards and pinned her to the floor boards; mercilessly drowning her lax body in the pool of his mother’s oozing blood.

     A faint ache played at the back of his murderous mind as the hands of his appalled sister bit into his waist; hastening to wrestle him off his prey. His flushed cheeks jiggled, and his unfeeling eyes twitched in hate as he yanked the woman’s head up by the neck and savagely slammed it back down again. Again, and again, repeatedly bashing her skull against the blood-soaked stage.

     Suddenly, his arduous concentration was broken by a strong black veil that snapped his head upwards and tore him away.

     Prying his son’s bruising hands from his wife’s fragile form, Brendol tackled the hysteric man to the floor, impaling him with a bony knee to the spine and mangling his arms behind his head. The Commandant barked raving orders at the men surrounding them as he struggled to subdue the redhead who had fully become an entity of potent darkness.

     With four full grown men holding him down, threatening to flatten both of his lungs, Armitage groaned and thrashed stubbornly under their crushing weight. He screeched in muffled agony as his father’s hands came over his face again, clenching his nostrils together and forcing his mouth closed. The cruel action produced a nasty taste of iron as it forced him to bite down on his tongue until it bled.

     “Hold him steady, men!”

     The Commandant’s gruff voice was starting to become garbled as Armitage felt his sentience slipping away. His dark adrenaline was fading and so was his vision.

     “Father! She’s not breathing!”

     Woollahra’s voice squeaked in horror and shock as it drifted through the crazed redhead’s ears like a bad dream.

     Armitage fought against the crew’s oppressive restraints with lessening power as his rigid body began to weaken under the fatigue resulting from a stifling lack of oxygen. A hot ray of blistering sunlight cut into his sharp cheek on one side while the other was scraped against the splintering stage. He could feel the bleak and aggressive darkness pumping through his body and with the aid of his father’s life-threatening clasp, it swallowed up his sight and lulled him into a reluctant, yet familiar slumber.

    _There she was. Thank God it had all been a dream. A horrible nightmare fabricated from a severe lack of sleep and the overwhelming stress of sharing a roof with the intense Commandant. But now, it was all over, his eyes were open, and the sweetness of truth washed over him brining comfort to his mind and reviving his damaged senses._

_The beautiful woman stood still with her arms outstretched, her long gorgeous hair flipping in the wind and her smile gleaming in the sparkling rain as her wonderful laughter echoed through the air. “Everything is going to be alright now, Darling.”_

_Mother. He could feel the warm glow of his own grin swelling under his nose and he waved to her; motioning for her to approach._

_There was a low vibration rumbling somewhere off in the distance, unseen though somewhat menacing. He ignored it with eager disdain and called out again to the enchanting goddess with the magnificent orange mane, desperate for her touch._

_The woman’s charming giggle tickled his ears as he watched her shake her head in a stubborn display of playful defiance. Her curtain of soft blazing locks whirled around as she turned to run from him down the bright rainy path._

_Mother! The smile burrowed within his cheeks grew increasingly wider with her childlike antics. Again, there came a perilous tremor pounding against his eardrums warning him of some imminent terror, and again, he pushed away the bulging caution to follow the woman at her brisk pace._

_Mother? As he emerged from the dense wooded path, a ray of hot sunlight burned away the cool raindrops and caressed his face; making him blink in the soft light. His green eyes finally adjusted and found the slim figure of the carefree woman standing in a clearing._

_She was humming to herself with her arms tucked behind her back. Her hair draped down over her shoulder blades as she tipped her face toward the sky and grinned at the glow of the warm solar atmosphere. “It’s alright, Darling. Breathe. Breathe slowly.”_

_Mother! Before he could grab her attention away, a sudden crack of thunderous magnitude shook him to his knees with a deadly force. He watched in horror as the smiling woman dropped to the muddy ground in an explosion of blood and tears, following the blinding haze of ghostly smoke._

Flailing like a maniac, Armitage woke from his defining night terror with a pitiful scream. Falling from a strange height, he crashed to a hard floor that vibrated with a thick metallic bang. His heart beat heavily in his throat like a petrified boulder. With the dream’s deadly roar still reverberating through his ears, he shivered as the cognizance of harsh reality set in. Thunder. Of course, it was thunder. A goodly amount of time must have passed since his last conscious act and the storms of Arkanis had returned with a vengeance.

     He lifted his trembling fingers to rub at his blurry eyes and the brown stains gloving his hands brought back the flood of tragic memory. He winced, feeling every man’s knee that had held him to the ground with the slightest turn of his neck and moaned as he took in his foreign surroundings.

     It was barren, hexagon in shape, and devoid of all pleasantries. There was a narrow slab of cold metal that served as the bed he had fallen out of and a low-rising bowl, degrading and half-hidden in the back of the room to act as a toilet. In all, the room had two openings, one small window that allowed for the outside world to be seen and the door; both of which were closed off by a threatening Ray shield. He was in the brig, no doubt about it.

     Armitage winced as another crack of thunder boomed overhead and shook his raw nerves.

     “Would you look at that?” A male voice from behind the transparent throbbing red energy forcefield.

     “The scoundrel lives!” Came the answer from another man. “Welcome to the brig, Cadet.”

     Armitage staggered to his feet and instantly regretted doing so as an ugly rush of sharpened pain screamed through his system; knocking him back to the floor. He groaned miserably, rolling over to pull himself back up to the metal bed at least.

     “Hey, take it easy there, boy. Your father gave you quite the wallop after he put you out.”

     Armitage’s vision darkened, and he could feel the slow burn of perpetual hate rising in his throat at the mention of Brendol Hux. An aching fist-sized welt attached to the base of his skull proved the guard’s claim to be true. With great painfilled effort, the young man dragged his broken body up to a sitting position upon the hard mattress and looked down at himself to examine the obvious damage.

     A brownish red substance coated his entire body from top to bottom, tinting his skin color and producing a thick crust which ruined his black uniform. A surge of morbid angst lurched within his hardened core as he remembered the way it had felt to hold his dying mother in his arms as the last bit of life was taken from both of their hearts.

     He clenched and unclenched his blood-stained fists trying to alleviate the excruciating anguish of living with a broken heart, a broken mind, and a broken soul.

     “Your father demands that you eat something, boy.”

     Armitage stayed his dejected gaze on the floor, convincing his dark instinct not to seize the guard by the throat.

     Dressed in a white uniform with black trousers (the colors designating him as security detail) the man lowered the Ray shield and stepped inside. His partner trained the sights of his shock blaster on the redhead to discourage any thought of violence.

     “Here.” The man set a plate of rancid meat and rubbery vegetables down beside his prisoner’s leg. “Might as well build your strength back up?” The guard, obviously weary of his tedious occupation, cocked his head downward to attract the silent prisoner’s gaze. “So, you’ve got to tell me, were you actually planning on killing your own mother?”

     Armitage turned his head slowly, taking one glance at the food and curled his lip. Without a sound he grabbed the rim of the dish and shoved it back into the man’s chest. “Get out.”

     The guard chuckled, taking the plate from him and shook his head. “I have direct orders from the Commandant that you are to receive nourishment.” He held the plate up to the young man’s nose, grinning at his blank expression. “He requires that you are made hearty enough to withstand more than one day’s worth of punishments.”

     The ginger-haired cadet’s eyes lit up with a fuming ire and he sprung to his feet; despite the pain that shot up his spine. “Consider this a warning! Take that blasted garbage out of my sight and leave my cell at once or I shall be forced to remove you myself! These are _my_ direct orders!” He snapped.

     The guard closed his mouth and shrunk away back to the safety of the outside corridor. There was something heinous and wild glinting in the young redhead’s eyes that had struck a nerve of fear and caused his mind to believe every word of the threat.

     Armitage stood to his feet, treading lightly to save his back, and limped to the rear of the cell. He had to stretch his neck to see out the window and watched as the pouring rain beat down upon the muddy ground with an unusual aggression. Obviously, the weather was determined to punish its planet for welcoming the sun for a few hours.

     As he stared out across the darkening world, his gaze was met by a blinding flame dancing in the distance. It was a fire that burned so hot that even the nightly monsoon could not douse its temper. His glare deepened as he spotted several silhouettes working around the fiery blaze. They seemed to be hauling heavy items to the hungry beast and throwing them to its mercy.

     An awful pang of guilt shot through his tightening mind and hitched its anchor in his throat. He knew all too well what those people were doing. A heap of cinders was easier to be rid of than a mass pile of lifeless bodies needing to be buried.

     He tried to swallow the scathing lump but choked on it instead. Those bodies being tossed around as a snack for the starved flames, all of them deserved to be there. Every criminal had been charged and duly punished for their crimes. Accept for her. She had taken her son’s place to face the death and fire. It was he who had poisoned the Commandant, he who had tampered with his own food, and he was the one who overtly attacked a woman nearly killing her. It was he who deserved to be thrown into those unforgiving flames not that poor dear kitchen woman.

     Armitage screwed his tearless eyes shut and ground his teeth together. Thinking that it would not be long before it was _his_ stiff body that would lie beaten and bruised awaiting to be reduced to ash. His face flushed at the thought. How degrading? Death he deserved, yes, but dishonor and humiliating ignominy? He balled up his fists again, feeling the painful stab of his fingernails as they punctured his palms, and thrust his exigent hand into his uniform’s breast pocket.

     Fingering the vial of poisonous Lexonite that he had kept hidden there, he slowly slipped it out and coolly uncorked the neck. This life belonged to him alone. If he was to die, it would not be by their hand. He would show them that nobody, not even their accursed Commandant would retain a possessive control over him. It was his life to live and it was his life to take. And currently, there was no residual merit in remaining alive.

 


	10. Face to Face with Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage meets someone who completely terrifies him and instantly demands his undying respect.

     Having made the permanent decision, Armitage lifted the blue powder up to his mouth and prepared his mind to welcome the excruciating pain that was about to befall him when he ingested the entire container dry and without the dilution that his father had enjoyed.

     _“Armitage Hux!”_

     A voice had exploded from behind. Just as the cold glass of death had kissed his lips, the boy felt every hair stand up on end. It was a deep gravely voice filled with dangerous potential and though it was surely coming from outside, it sounded as if it were somehow inside his own head as well.

     He felt a tightening shiver weaving its way around his spine as he lowered the poison vial and turned to meet the terrifying entity that had spoken his name. His blackened heart froze, and an uncontrollable look of shocking disgust latched onto his features.

     Hovering just above the guard’s control panel as a wavering blue hologram, the intimidating voice had bellowed out of the wrinkled mouth of a truly terrifying being. This maniacal alien was anthropoid in form, but surely, far from human. The pallor of his skin gave him a sickly look, but the strength in his voice preached otherwise. His head was hairless and covered in scars. A gaping hole served as what once was the alien’s left cheek, and a long cavernous slash ran from between his two eyes and over the crest of his forehead.

     Armitage could feel the prickling fear clawing at his mind and begging him to avert his gaze, but he stubbornly fought it off with every fiber of his hardened will.

     “Armitage Hux.” The hideous alien repeated the name, sounding as if he were trying make it out to mean more than a curse word.

     “Y-Yes.” The redhead straightened his aching shoulders and swallowed a nervous flutter.

     “Said to be the sensation of Arkanis Academy. Son of Lieutenant Commander Brendol Hux of the Galactic Empire.” The hologram’s giant peering eyes shifted to the poisonous item clenched in the young man’s fist. “You disappoint me, I came to you expecting to discover a man of logic and brains. But here I find a pathetic child yearning for a way out.”

     Armitage unconsciously moved his arm to hide the vial behind his back and gulped as the alien’s deformed brow darkened.

     “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

     “Wh-Who are you?” The ginger managed to ask.

     “Surely you have heard my name spoken of. I am Snoke. Master of the Dark Side of the Force and Supreme Leader of the new First Order.”

     “First Order?”

     Suddenly, a surging flash brightened the room, and the transparent image of the frightening alien vanished.

     “Must have picked up some wild frequency.”

     Armitage glanced around in a frantic state of confusion as one of the prison guards tampered with the control dials.

     “How did that… that ugly thing… know who you were, kid? Spooky.” The man chuckled and shut down the computer’s ability to display holographic messages.

     Not a moment later, the three men felt an unnatural rumble vibrating through their boots.

     Armitage backed away from the walls and braced himself for the coming quake. The suspension chains attached to his metal bed rattled and quivered with the powerful drone.

     Suddenly, A blue flare of electric energy sparked across the top of the control panel and the entire instrument began to shake.

     “Turn it off!” The armed guard screamed at his partner with terrified concern.

     “It is off!”

     The man had barely had time to burble out his answer before a sudden shot of blue lightning emanating from the overridden computer plunged into his body. Entering at the feet and burning up through to his brain; killing him instantly.

     Armitage’s eyes widened, and he bit down on his tongue as he watched the dead guard flop to the floor with a thud. His charred flesh sizzled and smoking while the other screaming officer met a similar demise.

     With the two prison sentries dead, the horrible tremor ceased and the holographic portrait of Snoke reappeared.

     The redhead felt his stomach drop and his pulse quickened as he stared directly into the eyes of that monster.

     “Allow me to continue.”

     His voice grated across the young man’s ears striking every nerve of warning against listening to it, but he purged these feelings and masked them with fraudulent confidence; knowing now that the alien would not be denied.

     “Please.” The word came out as a hoarse whisper and Armitage swallowed a dry gulp of air.

     “As I have said, I have been watching you. Your determination and skill along with the strategic knowledge of war have provided you with exceptional traits. It has made me very interested in your potential usefulness.”

     His face remained hard. Though the introduction of praise for his efforts teased his starving ego, the darkness within his heart did not allow his elated emotion to surface. His green eyes only narrowed in response.

     “But of course, many of the other soldiers in your company possess the same abilities.” A wheezing laugh followed the moment of breaking silence that ensued. “Your mind is a chaotic storm of emotion. Soon, you will learn to harness that energy and rein it in under your control.” His eyes darkened. “You are wondering why I have sought you out this day? Is there a particular reason?”

     Armitage blinked. How did he know his every thought? His mother had never mentioned mind reading as a trait of Force-users.

     “There is certain darkness in you. I can sense it. My loyal apprentice has taken years to finally give in to the path to the Dark Side. But you, you have completed the journey within one day. It is nothing if not…impressive. The Empire has fallen, chaos now fills our skies and the galaxy is in dire need of order. The force of evil within you will drive you on to obtain that order and win victory over the destructive Republic and their Jedi allies.”

     Armitage’s fear flew away at the mention of the mystical being and was replaced by an attitude of pure disbelief. “With all due respect, sir.”

     “You shall call me ‘Supreme Leader’!” Snoke cut off the young man’s complaint with a resounding growl.

     Not caring enough to include the haughty correction, Armitage blinked in hesitant defiance. “With all due respect, the ways of the Jedi, the Force, the Sith, Dark Side, Light Side… none of it matters anymore. It was all just an active religious cult practiced by the ancients and revived back during the Clone Wars to ensure victory over the Separatist movement.” He could hear the words of his father bellowing out of his mouth and he cringed upon the thought of agreeing with the man. His knowledge of the Force had been presented to him as childhood entertainment and as a result, his understanding of it was extremely limited. However, he continued to blatantly deny the purpose and efficiency of such a ridiculous folly.

     Suddenly, as he took another breath to continue his sermon, he stopped as he felt his tongue involuntarily fuse with the roof of his mouth. A crushing energy wormed its way through his body compacting every muscle and stripping away his ability to move. He grunted and groaned as he felt a compressing hand wholly engulf him and paralyze him.

     “Your ignorance is very unbecoming.”

     Sheer panic rushed through his constricted veins as his own bodily control was ripped away from him. Slowly the low rumble met his ears again, but this time it was inside, racking his brain and torturing his mind. He let out an undignified whimper as his boots left the floor and he was suspended in the air with nothing to support him.

     “Nothing matters without the Force, and the ways of the dark opens up its full potential.”

     Armitage slid his wide eyes to the left side and watched as his stolen poison vial was pried from his grip with ease, the cork reinstalled, and then returned to his chest pocket with a frightening smoothness. He struggled to fill his lungs with a deep breath, but it seemed that even they were under the complete control of another.

     “It can twist chaos…”

     With the alien’s lecture, the room came alive. Metal shards peeled from the walls with a horrible screech and flew into a frenzy of anarchic debris. The beaming Ray Shields fluctuated and zapped in and out of use as the room became as a roaring tornado.

     Armitage clenched his teeth barely holding in a scream and squeezed his eyes shut. The dangerous whirlwind swirling around his head came indefinitely closer with every rotation and he tried to brace himself for the painful death that was soon to come. The fear that was gripping his heart was clear and he could tell that the Supreme Leader Force-User was enjoying his moment of torment.

     “…back into order.”

     Suddenly, everything dropped to the floor. Armitage felt the crushing hands bring his body to the window and harshly crank his head to look outside.

     The rain had stopped. Not as if the weather had cleared, no, every single drop stuck in its individual path; unmoving and solid. A streak of lightning had frozen in the black clouds up above.

     His mind exploded with this revelation. A strange sort of admiration mixed with sheer dread took root and he molded his opinion of the mystical aspects of the galaxy anew.

     Without warning, he was released and fell to the hard floor, just the same as the evening raindrops. The feeling of his muscles being allowed to relax overwhelmed his senses and he trembled from the terrible experience. Looking up at the awe-inspiring hologram, he nodded his head and let the red hair fall into his eyes as he whispered. “Teach me.”

     Snoke scoffed. “I have other purposes for you to fulfill, Hux.”

     Staggering to his feet, he frantically brushed back his disturbed locks. “Yes, Supreme Leader. What is it that you would have me do?”

     The holoprojector floated with ease into the cell, bringing the giant blue head with it.

     “There is to be an attack on your planet. The New Republic has been destroying the Empire’s training facilities, taking prisoners and scavenging for the strong soldiers that they hope to mold into their way of thinking. Their Rebel fleets have already desolated The Royal Imperial Academy of Coruscant, The Academy of Mandalore, all of the flight institutes, and now they have their sights set on Arkanis.”

     Armitage gave a shaky sigh and glanced over his shoulder out of the rain beaten window. “How much time do we have?”

     Snoke sighed a long and frustrated breath. “It will not be long. According to my sources they have been in hyperspace for three days now and are bound to arrive in your sector before morning dawns.”

     He could feel a rush of fearful excitement tremble through his core. “Shall I warn the Commandant and let him prepare his officers for the siege?”

     “No!” A terrible explosion of lightning erupted with the alien’s rage and surged angrily across the chamber walls. “Your life belongs to me now! No longer do you answer to the pathetic whims of that man. Your father has trained you well, but now the time has come for the student to overthrow his master. Etch this into your mind and keep it well: Armitage Hux is dead. Under my rule you shall receive a new name and erase the past. I grant you the rank of Colonel -effective immediately. This type of insignia will become your formal address now that you have been inducted into the First Order, and as you reach each promotion, you will gladly adhere to their titles.”

     The young man nodded in deep respect, his eyes glinted with the sudden thrill of power and he fought back an exuberant grin. “Thank you, Supreme Leader.”

     Thunder crashed violently above, acting as if it were delighted to add an element of drama to the conversation.

     “Now, I have sent out a rescue battalion to counter the Republic’s ambush on your Academy; they are currently in route to your position and will arrive within a few hours. Meanwhile, I am assigning you to the duty of gathering together only the highly elite members and bringing them to me.”

     “What of the left-over cadets?” He stupidly questioned the Supreme Leader’s command.

     “I have no interest in sparing any other lives than what I have already deemed necessary, Colonel! Let them fend for themselves!”

     Hux lowered his head and gave the Supreme Leader an apologetic gesture.

     Suddenly a datapad, that had belonged to one of the late prison guards, rose from its dormancy and drifted into the young Colonel’s hands.

     “Make a record of this list and do not veer from its specifics.” Snoke’s huge vindictive eyes peered over the red-haired man with warning.

     Colonel Hux typed in the select names of his fellow officers and cadets accordingly as dictated: _LtCdr. Brendol Hux._ The young man’s hardened eyes twitched at the thought of his father being the Supreme Leader’s first choice. Next, _Capt. Peavey, JO. Tritt Opan…etc._

He had come away with quite a lengthy register by the time Snoke had finished his quote. The ever-storming sky outside had delved deep into the night.

     “Now you are ready.” The wavering blue head of the deformed alien flickered. “They are getting close. Go now and prove to me your worth.”

     “Yes, Supreme Leader.” Hux bowed and turned to take swift confident steps toward the cell’s entrance. With a sudden jerking motion, he was forced to stop dead in his tracks as the lethal Ray shield snapped back on. He quickly swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and glanced back to Snoke’s holographic form.

     “Take care not to fail me, Colonel. You will be begging on your knees to be put back under the command of your father, I promise you.”

     With a desperate sting of arrogant spite, the ginger Colonel set his jaw and straightened his neck to face the pulsating Ray shields. “I will not fail you.”

     Without another word of conversation, the electric forcefield crackled off, the hovering holoprojector dropped out of the air -smashing to the floor with a damaging crack, and an empty silence displaced the lingering ominous presence.

     Colonel Hux stepped out into the corridor and made his way to exit the brig. On passing by a reflective blast door, he saw himself and noticed that his entire form was still incased with his mother’s dried blood. Somehow, he had forgotten about her completely. A pang of sorrow threatened to squeeze its way into his broken heart but was instantly seized and destroyed by his overprotective darkness.

     He glared at the image, giving the painful reminder an obstinate sneer. There was no time now to wallow in piteous memory and regret. What Snoke had said was true: Armitage Hux was dead. That sniveling, emotionally weak child had been killed, alongside his mother, and his remains incinerated by the boiling inferno that was the Dark Side.

     Now, he was known solely by the title of his current and privileged position; Colonel. With nothing but stern duty in his mind, the young man left the brig and was immediately met by the rage of Arkanis’ vengeful storms.

 


	11. Son of the First Order

     Time had drawn long into the night and every inhabitant of the Academy had retired to their lodgings hours ago. It was the perfect moment for an ambush.

     Colonel Hux splashed across the courtyard, taking strong confident steps as the angry downpour hammered him, drenching his tall lean form in full force. Squinting through the soaking sheets, he strategically directed his course to one of the cadet barracks. With the rain dripping from his fiery locks, he marched up to the entrance and rapped loudly on its door.

     Nothing. The Colonel growled to have to repeat this gesture a second time before finally rousing the attention of the cabin’s squad leader.

     Tritt Opan woke with a start, sleepily dragged himself from his bunk and crept toward the horrible pounding noise; stepping over and around his drowsy and complaining roommates. “Who could possibly be out at this hour?” His whisper harboring the teeth of hostility, he pulled a black rain jacket over his bare arms and reached for the door. “It had better not be another prankster! I’ll tear his arms off!”

     Colonel Hux took a slight step backward and folded his arms behind his back as the groggy face of his former classmate emerged. “Ah, Opan, good you are awake.”

     The junior officer grimaced at the sensation of cold sharp rain slicing through his weary face and held out his hand to shield his clouded eyes. “Hux? Is that you? But I thought… How did you…It’s the middle of the night!”

     “I am well-aware of the time, Opan.” He paused a moment for the blanket of lingering sleep to fully release the man swaying in the doorway. “Come with me, I must speak with you. It’s urgent.” With that, he turned and disappeared behind the cascading shadows.

     “Well I should hope it is.” The man groused, clothing his feet with a pair of worn jodhpur boots. “You’re pulling me out of bed for this, kid. Your reason had best be a matter of life or death!” As he stepped down to the soft ground a jolt of surprise coursed through his mind and he stumbled back as he met the Colonel’s forbidding eyes merely inches from his own.

     “Subordinates shall not address their commanders as ‘kid’.” He scrunched his nose cocked his head. “Is that clear, Ensign?”

     “Ensign? What are you talking about!?” Opan regained his balance and turned up his collar to keep some of the dampness out. “Hux, are you feeling alright?”

     “Of course, I am!” He barked, eyes gleaming with dark power as the relentless lightning reflected in them. “I have recently been promoted to the rank of Colonel, which by military law demands your complete submissive respect!” Rain water sprayed from his lips as he pressed his finger into the graduate’s chest.

     “Now I know that crack to the skull did some damage.” Tritt shivered and firmly took his comrade by the arm to calm him down. “Come on inside for the night. I’ll take you back to the Commandant in the morning and explain to him that you are unwell, and that a room at the infirmary would be better suited to your needs than a prison cell.” With a nod, he began to pull him along. “How did you escape the brig anyway?”

     Detached of all emotion, Colonel Hux breathlessly seized the man’s wrist by its notorious pressure point and twisted it around back of him; wrapping a cruel hand around his neck and leaning down to speak in his ear. “You listen to me, Opan, and you listen well.” His muscles tightened as the junior officer struggled in his lethal grasp. “I do not answer to that coward anymore. I outrank him! His duty here has become mere child’s play compared to mine.” He punctuated his rant with a chuckle of bleak amusement and a harsh roll of thunder laughed along with him.

     “What duty?” The man’s voice broke under the crushing force of Hux’s fingers cutting into his throat.

     “Survival. There is to be an attack on our planet tonight. A detrimental raid on our Academy. The New Republic has been planning this for months and now is their time to strike!” The blinding surge of lightning fractured the clouds overhead, as he slowly loosened his iron grip and shoved the junior officer away. “An ambush. Not one person here has seen it coming. Look around you, every man, every woman, they have all made themselves easy targets in their ignorant slumber; even your precious Commandant.” He paused as another rippling crash of thunder challenged his volume. “Our only saving grace is a single cloaked Imperial shuttle that will arrive after the chaos begins.”

     “One shuttle!? That’s hardly going to be enough for a full evacuation!”

     Colonel Hux stiffened his back and sighed. “It is meant to harvest a limited selection of cadets and officers. Not to worry. I will be among them, and so will you.” He stared unfazed as the biting rain ruthlessly streaked down his face.

     Tritt Opan let his mouth hang agape. “Who told you this? All of it must be classified information that only the eyes of the most elite senior officers are privy to!”

     The young man fluffed his dripping sleeves in a magisterial fashion, puffed out his chest and raised his chin; letting the fact of realization sink into the moronic graduate’s mind.

     “Colonel Hux?”

     The newly promoted officer nodded with a cold stance; an emphatic sense of arrogant accomplishment oozing from every pore.

     Tritt swallowed a flurry of fear as the force of twisted reality kicked him in the guts. “Why are you telling me all this, Sir?” He staggered backward in the mud, clicking his heels together and gave the young redhead an eager salute.

     The Colonel smirked as a powerful flash of lightning illuminated the frightened respect in the inferior man’s eyes. “I have an assignment for you to fulfill.” Pulling the datapad from his pocket, he handed it to Opan with a dominant air. “This file bears list of names, each one must be roused and prepared for extraction. Tell them everything I have told you and do not forget to mention the shift in authority. By the time you have gotten them gathered together, our Imperial backup will have arrived. Organize the troops and I will meet you there.” Pointing to the document, he paused, and his pride melted into petulant hate as it lingered again on his father’s title. “Except for the Commandant. Leave that one to me.” His fists clenched unbeknownst to conscious decision.

     “Yes, Sir, it will be done. But,” Opan blinked as a cold sliver of rain snaked down his back. “if I may, why have you chosen me to be put in a position of such importance?”

     “Not importance, Ensign. Necessity.” He corrected with a scheming tone. “You have been like a shadow following me around for years. My eternal burden. And yet it became your own farce incumbency -overtly trying to hide me away, save me from their cruelty, tuck me under your wing; like a pathetic mother hen.”

     The junior officer flinched with the stinging insult, but quickly regained his composure, narrowing his fluttering eyes and furrowing his brow.

     “Well, as you have learned, that fruitless effort was naught but a grave mistake. You see, it is clear now that our roles are very much reversed.” His arrogant smile curled the edges of his lips. “There is a certain order to things and every master needs a trustworthy gundog to be forever at his side. From now on, if you adhere to my personal bidding, your lifelong wish to be my shadow will be granted and you will surely take your rightful place at my heel.” He frowned and turned toward the Commandant’s quarters. “Impress me, Opan, then depending on your performance, I may even have you promoted.” Shaking thunder roared overhead, sending a flush of potent rain to punish the men for leaving their dry lodgings. 

     “Colonel!” Tritt stopped the officer with a repulsive screech, though Hux did not face his subordinate. “You are absolutely sure that the Republic will ambush us tonight!?”

     Instead of an articulate answer, the man’s question was deemed obvious by a sudden rumbling disturbance buried within the menacing cloud cover. Lights -red, white, green, yellow, swarms of intense, rushing lights attracted both military men’s attention and they lifted their heads toward the blinking sky.

     Colonel Hux lowered his gaze in justified satisfaction and pointed toward the stark invasion. “Get dressed. The destruction of Arkanis Academy has already begun.” He paused once again to glance over his shoulder at the horrified graduate. “Oh, and Opan?”

     Tritt’s lungs flared as he struggled to control his panic and anxiously wiped the rain from his face; meeting the young Colonel’s stolid profile with a throbbing qualm of dread.

     “Take this,” He tossed the fragile bottle of Lexonite into the wave of rain; a jagged charge of violent lightning reflected in the glass as it flew. “Use it sparingly. Guard it with your life and keep it secret. I will warn you, however, don’t mix it with alcohol. The result is rather… disappointing.”

     The junior officer’s dark eyes widened as he caught the half empty vial with slippery hands and wrapped his stunned mind around his superior’s insouciant confession. With a grunt of anxiety belching from his lungs, he shook the unsettling revelation out of his mind and dashed back inside his barracks to don his uniform; waking every cadet within and warning them of the imminence of the roaring attack overhead.

     Colonel Hux nursed a swift stride with his arms tied regally behind his back and his stony features glued to the atmospheric turmoil above. His perceptive green eyes glinted darkly with every flash of untamed lighting as it dramatically framed the legion of enemy fighter ships against the black swirling storm clouds.

      Suddenly, his vison burned, and his hearing splintered as an intense beam of electric plasma came screaming to the ground; wounding it with an explosive impact that shook the very core of the sleeping planet, shocking it out of its hibernation.

     With a dull ringing pounding against the iron walls of his brain, he ceased his hard steps of determination. Curiously watching as the torrent of exploding bolts disciplined the Academy grounds with their furious lessons of upheaval, he noticed that the land had suddenly come alive again. Scattered people, half dressed and frantic buzzed amidst the chaos in a frenzied state of sheer panic.

     A white-hot spotlight broke through the thick sheets of rain and landed on a recently abandoned cabin, bathing it wholly in an intense blinding heat and painting a target marker to the roof. A second later, the light vanished, and a powerful whistling missile decimated the barracks; sending fiery fragments in all directions and reducing the foundation to a clump of defaced rubble.

     Amidst the haze of defeated flames, the blur of pure destruction, and the veil of complete chaos, the young red-haired Colonel spied his disgruntled father scrambling across the grounds at break-neck speed.

     Still pulling his clothes on, the man looked as if he were suddenly facing his worst nightmare. Bellowing panicked orders at the top of his lungs, the Commandant organized his loyal regime of soldiers into four core groups: One to douse the fires and rescue the wounded, and the other three held the order to gather a diverse set of weaponry to act as tools in the art of retaliation.

     With the planet being beaten to death by jolts of fatal gunfire and hailing bombs, Colonel Hux tore his boots from of the bleeding mud and jogged to the rigid Commandant. “Brendol!” He had to yell over the raging battle. “Brendol Hux!”

     The rugged man, with his uniform suspenders hanging down by his knees and his jacket open wide to reveal his sweaty chest, flipped around at the sound of his name. “Armitage!?”

     A cloud of sparks shot into the sky, almost touching a Rebellion speeder as it gunned down another lodging facility. The feasting flames anchored to its minimal roasting remains illuminated their faces, and the young Colonel grimaced as the shadows of desolation danced across his pale cheeks.

     “Lieutenant Commander Hux, as your commanding officer, I order you to come with me at once and join the naval fleet of the First Order!” The swell of angry thunder was swallowed up by a sea of deafening engines and gunfire.

     “Armitage! Every time I think I’m rid of you for good… What are you saying!? The First Order!?” He shook his head and growled ferociously. “Do you not see the ships above!? We are being invaded by the Rebels! So, shut your trap and grab a blaster, or go back to the brig where you belong!” He turned away to seek out a tactful vantage point.

     The young Colonel let out a heavy sigh, desperate to keep his aggravated darkness under control, and reached out to pull his father’s attention back. “I am giving you one chance! To stay and defend this position is a true travesty and will only end in your own demise!” He yelled over the piercing whistle of another devastating explosion. “Join the First Order!”

     “I will not!” He spit back at his son, batting his hand away with a painful swat. “What makes you think that you are qualified to speak to me in such a way, boy!?”

     “I am your superior officer, Commandant! For your sake, I suggest that you start recognizing me as such.” His green eyes hardened, and he stepped closer to the man; in a bold attempt at intimidation.

     The elder Hux’s face turned to a deep purple as the action filled him with unadulterated rage and he bumped chests with the audacious teenager. “By whose order!”

     The burning shaft of that deadly spotlight passed over them followed by the low rumble of bomber turbines.

     “By the executive order of Supreme Leader Snoke, himself.” An assertive smile wriggled its way onto his face and he challenged the man with a satisfied glare.

     A second Rebel bomber flew over them, shielding their bodies from the piercing deluge as it hovered slowly by.

     “Snoke is a pathetic excuse of power!” Brendol threw his hands up in the haze and brought them back down to his hips. “He is stuck in the past! The ways of the Sith died with Vader! It is all delusion! Utter triviality that serves as more of a hindrance to our armies when the galaxy is at war!”

     A crackle of lightning ripped through the sky and the young Colonel snarled. “He has mastered the ways of the Force to an extent that not even you could imagine! It allows him comprehend and access the events of the past _and_ future, Brendol!”

     “The Force is an extinct practice, Armitage!” He clenched his teeth for a moment before continuing. “What use has that witchcraft against situations like this!?” He pointed toward the smoking sky. “You know my views on that charlatan!”

     “That _charlatan_ has offered you a new life! Look around you, Brendol, the Academy is done for! The New Republic has gotten the drop on us…on _you!”_ His penetrating gaze never wavered even as      the unstable sputtering from a downed speeder spiraling to the ground, screamed across the sky. “Your entire world and all that you’ve built is about to be reduced to a meaningless horde of obliterated space dust!”

     The Colonel ground his teeth, suddenly regretting his nonnegotiable commitment to duty. “Now, if you are capable of dismounting your high-horse and obeying direct orders, at least you will escape with your pathetic life! Be logical! The Supreme Leader is our savior in all of this…” He challenged the man’s stubborn will as a deadly fireball plummeted toward the Academy and annihilated its medical facility.

     “There is an Imperial frigate coming to collect us.” A flutter of excitement coursed through his veins at the thought of finally leaving this wretched planet. “Demonstrate some wisdom and be on it when we leave Arkanis to the wolves.” His entire body revolted against convincing the man to choose life, but the nagging fear of failing the Supreme Leader viciously spurred him on.

     Suddenly, before the fuming Commandant could respond, a crackling engine flared directly above, making him flinch and duck out of pure instinct. To his appalled astonishment, the circling enemy bomber had targeted his very own abode.

     The blinding spotlight guided its gunner and the devastating package was dropped. The piercing whistle screamed within their eardrums and the savage explosion knocked them both to the sopping ground as it threw out a crippling shockwave.

     With their green eyes open wide, the Hux men watched the entire building burst into a flaming heap and crumble, as if it had been erected in sand. Each of them with blurred minds and screaming ears, they pushed and pulled at one another to scrabble to their feet.

     “Maratelle.” With the fires of his demolished home glistening in his eyes, Brendol mouthed his sudden concern and bolted in a panic toward the dead mound of wreckage.

     His son followed behind at a pace of indifference, the obvious shadow of irritation lining his hard features. “Leave her! We’ve run out of time, Commandant!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I forgot to post this yesterday so tonight there will be two up.


	12. Letting the Past Die

As they approached, a forlorn wail came bellowing out from within.

     Young Colonel Hux could feel the raw warmth from the home’s smoldering remains touch his face as he stepped inside; crushing fragile remnants of what used to be the security door.

     “Maratelle!” The Commandant searched frantically for the woman.

     Brendol’s voice, ripe with shock, faded into obscurity as the excitement of seeing this jailhouse be destroyed clouded the Colonel’s mind, causing it to race with a twisted thrill. The redhead crept around the ashen carnage, his darkened heart pounding in his chest as sparks of welcome destruction swirled around his head.

     An agonizing cough spewed forth in a pitiful cry for help and he sunk down to squat amongst the hot glowing embers. To his immense delight, he found the Commandant’s horrid wife, she had been flattened by a heavy support beam when the bomb went off and it was pinning her entire ugly body to the floor.

     “Help me!”

     The woman’s voice scraped across his ringing ears and he stared at her remorselessly as their eyes met.

     “A-Armitage!?” She gulped as a wave of fearful pain shot through her stomach.

     His complacent gaze slowly shifted to the four snakelike bruises circling her throbbing neck. “I see you are still living.” His voice deepened with amusement and he reached out to lightly tap two fingers on the thick metal compressing her trembling form. “For now.”

     “Armitage! You cursed devil! Get this thing off me!” She struggled against the powerful force holding her in place and screamed with the pain that came of the effort.

     The young man smiled smugly and raised an eyebrow as the tears of desperate fury flooded her eyes. “Oh, come now, Maratelle. Tears? No, you’re not trying hard enough.” He turned over his hand in a gesture of aid but refrained from extending an obliging reach; uncaringly resting his arm on his knee.

     Out of the choking haze of smoke, Brendol Hux came barreling over to the fallen debris and latched onto the heavy beam. “Maratelle!” He arched his strong back and tugged on the robust beam. “For God’s sake, Armitage, will you help her!?” He groaned, barely budging it with all his vigor and strength. “Bloody villain! With everything she’s done for you!? She is your mother after all!”

     A roll of thunder shook the ground and the young ginger calmly stretched to his full height, all emotion fleeing from his heart except the permanent disfiguration of hate. “My mother is dead.”

     Just as the words dropped from his mouth, a distinct whir of an Imperial starship graced their eardrums and landed nearby.

     Watching as the pool of mud spread to welcome the shuttle’s descent, the Colonel grabbed the rough material of his father’s jacket and ripped him away from the task, yelling. “Last chance, Brendol! Are you with us!? Or do you choose to perish!?” An explosive bolt of lightning punctuated his question and the rain beat down upon his father’s loathsome form.

     “No!” The man threw his son off and rammed his shoulder into the heavy iron trap. “The Empire still needs men like me to lead in its rebirth!” Repeating the violent action three more times, he disturbed the stubborn piece of rubble enough to tear his wife out from beneath its crushing jaws.

     “The Empire is dead, Brendol!” The young man could feel a twinge of impatience clawing at his throat. “It has fallen, fallen for good! And mark my words when I tell you that it will stay down this time! The galaxy needs something new to reinstate rule over its inevitable chaos; and we have it! The First Order!”

     A harsh stinging slap from the man’s iron knuckles took the young redhead by surprise and he gasped, snapping his head to one side upon the impact.

     “How dare you speak ill of the Empire, _Armitage!_ This is only the beginning!” The Commandant’s nostrils flared, and his chest pumped wildly as his anger overtook his sense of restraint. “I will be taking my wife and daughter along with the rest of the Academy’s officers to the Republic’s capital: Hosnian Prime.” He rubbed away the pain from cutting his hand on his son’s sharp cheek bone. “Stationed as Imperial agents, we will stay there and pose as humble citizens until we have accumulated enough strength to rise up and destroy them from the within. Only then will there be a chance for order to reign over the galaxy, and the fires of the Empire will burn again!”

     Colonel Hux’s pale eyelids melded together in a controlled state of rage, and he slowly lifted his chin back up to challenge his father again; granting the man a stoic stare. “Then you shall burn along with it.” The merciless rain flattened his red locks to his forehead causing them to stab at his unblinking eyes. “You want to flee to Hosnian Prime? So be it.” He allowed his glower to slink to Maratelle (who was clinging desperately to her husband’s strong arm) for a mere second, then back to his despicable father. “Go and kill them from the inside out like the parasites you are.”

     The angered Commandant scowled, pulling back to strike the impertinent teenager again, but as he thrust his churlish fist forward, it was caught by a cold hand of unexpected strength. All five of the Colonel’s bony fingers dug into the man’s weak areas, poised and ready to break his wrist.

     “Goodbye, Brendol.” He turned without another glance to the shaken couple and left to join his extraction crew; the bitter rain twirling from his hair and spitting on them as he did.

     Colonel Hux steadied his gait at a brisk pace and held his head high. Never once looking back. A sudden explosion erupted with wild energy only yards away, dotting his pale face with the spatter of mud and rock. Though the battlefield threatened his life, he continued his determined march unfazed by the monstrous danger and casually wiped the mess from his cheek.

     Suddenly, the young man noticed three shadows running towards him. He stopped in alarming suspicion and instinctively pulled a long piece of shrapnel from the wounded mudpuddle, concealing it in his sleeve; ready to strike if need be.

     “Sir!” One of the figures spoke. “Colonel Hux?”

     The young man eyed the three soldiers in a reserved silence and felt that he was not breathing. Urging forth a bolt of confidence, he looked them over once again then nodded curtly.

     “Colonel, sir! Allow us to escort you safely to the shuttle!” The armed man gave a grand salute and waved at his company to follow. “Come! The planet is unstable! Its core is only minutes away from collapsing!

     The Colonel gave the small escort another nod of approval and sped up his pace as they surrounded him in a secure protective stance. Nonchalantly, he dropped the jagged weapon out of his sleeve and left it to drown in the mud.

     As they began their approach on the waiting vessel, a certain high-pitched screech pricked Hux’s keen ears. He stopped dead in his tracks with a look of disgust growing over his face and held up a stern fist to halt his men.

     “Armitage! Stop!”

     It was Woollahra. That idiotic, annoying, freckle-faced, sister of his had come to seek her revenge? No, judging by the state of her betraying emotions, his consolation.

     “Armitage! I’ve been searching all over… Mother is hurt very badly! I left her alone to break you out of prison, so you could help her, but you were gone!” She gasped for breath like a dying fish

    “My, what a keen sense of observation you employ.” His lips twitched with sarcasm and he stretched his neck to face her, while keeping his back turned.

     The young girl’s deplorable sniveling grated across his rational senses and he could tell that she was observing his barrier of armed guards.

     “Where are you going!? We need you! Please, Armitage, you just can’t leave us!?” The increasing panic surrounding her voice was painfully evident.

     With the hateful rain streaming down her face, it was difficult to determine which was the precipitation or her bitter tears of tragedy, but the young officer could tell that she had lost her wits. “Stay where you are, girl!” He pointed a warning finger at her. “Your presence is not wanted here.”

     “Armitage!” The child’s face turned a shade of raging red and she stamped her foot; splashing mud onto her uniform. “Please! She is going to die without help! I know that you hate each other, but I love her, and I don’t want to lose my mother!” With a loud sob, the girl buried her face in her hands.

     He scoffed in spiteful retort. “Grow up! Open your eyes to the real world, Woollahra!” He flipped around to face her, crossed his arms and jerked his head toward the battle in the sky. “You need to wake up and learn the truth that there is nothing more trivial in life than the scam we call love!”

     The young girl wiped her raw cheeks and continued to wail.

     “Stop that crying! Why don’t you start acting like the soldier that you are always boasting about being!?” His eyes narrowed, and he growled. “She is fine. Brendol pulled her out.”

     Woollahra lifted her chin and sniffed. “He-He did? Was she alright, Armitage?”

     He felt a sudden rush of scalding anger flush his cheeks and he clenched his fists trying to control the oncoming outburst. “Stop calling me that wretched whelp’s name! I am your commanding officer! From this point forward, you shall address me as Colonel or sir!”

     What am I supposed to do, Armitage?” Obviously, she had not heard a word of his abrasive lecture.

     He glanced to the left, angrily confused by her question.

     “Father says that he is going to take us away from here…far away… but I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you behind.” The gushing tears welled up in her eyes again at the grievous thought.

     He almost laughed in her face as she whined. “I would not waste another second in the company of you scoundrels if it meant my very life!”

     She snapped her eyes up to his face in striking horror.

     “Your father is sweet talking you into joining his suicide mission! Why don’t you ever use your head and think, Woollahra!? How will your ship pass the planet’s clearance codes!? The Hosnian system stands as the capital of the Republic, I would suppose that they are just a bit picky on exactly who they let in!”

     The distressed girl fell silent, staring up at him and combing through his strong opinion. A sudden boom of Rebellion gunfire caused her to scream and she instantly ran toward her brother with open shaking arms. “Then I’ll forget Father and Mother! Let me stay with you, Armitage, Please!” She skated the edge of the Colonel’s protective orb and burst through the walls in attempt to wrap him in a thoughtless embrace.

     An instant crack to the front of her skull from the hard butt of a guardian soldier’s rifle sent her tumbling backwards and Woollahra found herself floundering in the muck with a throbbing ache above her eyes; blood gushing down her nose. “Armitage, p-please.” She blubbered, looking up at his laughing eyes. “I’m afraid to die! I want to be safe! I-I-I want to be with you! Take me along!”

     The young man’s face remained stiff and he looked down at her with an unsympathetic glare of hate. “Your name is not on the list.” He decidedly turned around, granting her nothing more than his back to throw her begging to as he resumed his march toward salvation.

     “What!? What list!?” She screamed as he left her alone, bleeding and unanswered. “What are you talking about!? Armitage, please!”

     He abandoned his young sister without a second’s hesitation and plowed through the haze of war led along by his armed escort until they reached the idling shuttle, teeming with the Supreme Leader’s chosen people.

     Colonel Hux let his hardened gaze comb over the crowd of cadets and officers as they stood in a frantic, yet orderly line, before the spaceship’s steaming loading ramp. Suddenly, his attention was sparked as a scene of disturbance began to unfold at the top of the line.

     “I was told by this man here that I was supposed to get on this ship, no questions asked!” A haughty graduate jabbed at Tritt Opan with his thumb and argued loudly with the sentry onboard.

     “Nobody sets a foot on this shuttle unless they can answer the passcode correctly!” The armed man roughly shoved the Academy student away from the entrance. “Tell me who your commanding officer is!?”

    Hux lowered his chin in growing contempt as he recognized the troublemaker. It had been years, but he had never forgotten that face; that ugly mocking face. It was the very same face of the bully who had almost murdered him on that fateful first day of his Academic career. The Colonel growled deep in his throat, remembering the blinding pain and thought of his unbecoming scar. It even began to drudge up the memories of his loving mother… No! He shut them out, filling his mind with despising revenge. He never forgot that boy and certainly never forgave him.

     “Tell me the name of your superior officer!” The sentry yelled again at the exasperating graduate.

     “It’s the Commandant!” He spit back, engaging a form of mock humor to voice his spiteful reply.

     “Wrong answer!” Instantly, the sentry thrust him down to the ground and trained his blaster rifle on the graduate’s vitals.

     Just as the situation escalated, the red-haired Colonel stepped forward; dismissing his band of guard dogs with a flick of his wrist. “What is the meaning of this?”

    “Sir!” When the sentry noticed his daunting presence, his tone softened into a deep respect. “A simple dealing of a sarcastic imbecile holding up the process, Colonel.”

     Hux shifted his intimidating gaze to the horizontal offender, staring through him.

     “I think he’s got it now though. I’ve put my point across.” The soldier lowered his weapon and grabbed the frightened graduate by the arm, helping him to stand.

     “Shoot him.” Without a single hint of irresolution, the Colonel verbally stripped his childhood bully of his permission to live.

     A wave of confusion flushed over the sentry and he blinked. However, not daring to risk his position by disobeying the senior officer’s direct order, he immediately raised the barrel again and tugged on the trigger.

     Colonel Hux felt a surge of excited victory tingle all throughout his body with the loud pop that flooded his eardrums. Being the only one who did not flinch, he smirked as he watched the body drop face down into the mud. He was amazed by the sheer amount of power that had somehow found itself caught in his grasp. He quickly concealed the grin of success and politely pushed past the sentry, leading himself into the spacious ship.

     Tritt Opan watched as Captain Peavey was next to attempt to board. His neck was sweating, and he had already wiped his palms on his trouser legs hoping that no one else would be executed for little reason.

     “Who is your commanding officer?” After dismissing his salute, the sentry recharged his rifle and brought the sights up to the Captain in line.

     Peavey stepped up with confidence. He despised the thought of answering to the arrogant young man and was tempted to allow the sentry to shoot him rather than give himself away to the new Colonel’s haughty rule. “Hux!”

     The armed man’s eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened around the blaster’s stock. “Which one?”

     The veteran officer felt his face redden and he growled. “Armi- Colonel Hux.”

     With a nod of the barrel he turned to allow the Captain access. “Get on, head to the rear and strap yourself in. Next!”

     Once every subordinate had accepted his place under the Colonel, the Imperial shuttle retrieved its sliding ramp and began its ascent. Attracting an unwanted arsenal of bullets as it rose into the air, the roaring turbines curled the petulant storm clouds around the shuttle and burned off the clinging rain.

     As its mechanical wings bent into operating position, Hux stiffly glanced toward the shrinking ground. He watched without regret as Rebel foot soldiers infiltrated the demolished Academy grounds and swarmed those who were left behind.

     His cold green eyes darkened as he spotted the tiny form of Brendol Hux stealthily leading his own group of followers -including his wife and daughter, onto an enemy ship; stealing it from beneath the New Republic’s very nose.

     With a disapproving snort, he looked away. In a flash of heat, they had broken through the atmosphere and were bound for the endless field of stars.

      The tedious trip taken at light speed had been eerily quiet. Only the grinding hum of mind numbing hyperspace was there to tell them that they had not gone deaf. The vacant lack of thunderous lightning and constant rainfall left a sort of void in all their minds as they realized that they would never again relish in the comforts of home.

     Time seemed to pass at a more rapid pace within the infinite universe and the steady course of two days had gone in barely a blink of an eye.

     “Brace yourselves.” An armored pilot warned as he plunked down buttons and tugged on levers. “We are coming out of hyperspace in three… two… one.”

     The red-haired Colonel uncrossed his arms, opening his eyes at the warning and focused his gaze out the window. He blinked as the blue cloudlike tunnel swallowing up their ship dissolved into a bright glare of intense light until it separated into millions of odd beams that eventually controlled themselves, compacting into stationary stars again.

     His eyes widened, settling on the enormous black ship anchored beneath them. Was that a mobile starship? Was it a space station? He raised his eyebrows in question. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought a ship so large to ever exist. “Where are we?” Speaking in a throaty voice (Due to the prolonged silence) he tarried his gaze on the gigantic vessel; refusing to look away, should he miss and inch of its impressive presence.

     “Our location is uncharted, Colonel.” The pilot pressed a glowing green button which lowered their altitude. “The Unknown Regions.”

     The young man’s ears filled with a rush of excitement as the ship sunk toward the ever-growing enormity. “And this is?”

     “The capital flagship of the First Order, Sir.” He smiled beneath his shiny helmet. “Welcome to the ‘ _Supremacy’._ ”

     The Imperial shuttle’s wings folded above its crest as the pilot landed it gently in one of the vast docking bays. With a deafening hiss, several cooling spouts of steam came bursting from the engine pistons as the bay doors opened and the ramp was extended.

     Colonel Hux was the last to exit the shuttle and he could feel his heart thudding within his breast as he took in the overwhelming world that thrived on the battlecruiser. He felt like an insignificant speck compared to the seemingly infinite ceilings. Lined with Imperial vehicles of every kind, the walls and platforms displayed thousands of TIE starfighters, AT-AT assault walker tanks, and AT-ST combat walkers, all of which he had only heard about from his mother’s wild tales. There were even several full-sized Star Destroyer dreadnaughts that had been docked within the massive warship’s belly.

     “Colonel?”

     An echoing female voice caught his attention and dragged his gaze back down into focus.

     “Colonel, Supreme Leader Snoke has requested your counsel.”

     Hux remained silent, looking to the woman and admiring the way she held herself -with such strength, ease, and prowess; he could tell instantly that she had been wallowing in a position of immense power for quite some time. Starting his gaze at her reflective black boots, he ran his eyes up her heavily decorated uniform and stopped at her face. She was wearing a stiff lip and her eyes spoke of ruthless experience. She was much older than him, a white strip of curled hair nestled in a bushel of greying black locks ran from her forehead and had been tied tightly behind her ears, but it was obvious that age had not impaired her sense of superior exhortation.

     “Take them to the nearest sonic station. They all must be cleaned up before they settle in.” She turned her head to give the quiet order to her troop. Her smooth white uniform contrasted greatly against her dark skin in an elegant fashion and she returned her stern gaze to the tall, mussy, redhead.    

     “How do you do, Madam?” He stepped forward, a twinge of reminiscent anger touching his mind as the formal address regurgitated the spite of his childhood; but he immediately buried the feeling and put on a mask of charm.

     “You look a disgrace, Colonel.” The woman gestured to his stained face and torn clothing. “And you will address me as Grand Admiral Rae Sloane.” She then nodded to the group of organized stormtroopers who immediately escorted the Arkanis survivors away. “Walk with me, Hux.”

     Shooting a sneer of arrogant prerogative to the silent Captain Peavey, Hux smirked and joined the assertive woman vehemently; his muddy boots clicking across the reflective black floor beside her.

 


	13. An Adjusted Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Col. Hux meets someone who will prove to be quite a difficult comrade.

     Nearly an hour after his arrival, Hux found himself standing alone in a rushing turbolift. He had been given a fresh uniform that proclaimed his rank and groomed his appearance to perfection. The dried blood and mud and rain, everything that held ties to his miserable past, had been washed away from his mind; sucked down a dark drain and replaced by a clean sense of bellicose duty. Clothed in a rough teal fabric, his shoulders rose and fell as he steadied his nerves upon meeting the Supreme Leader.

     Suddenly, the lift stopped with a low whir, and its overlapping doors slid open soundlessly.

     _“Colonel Hux, enter.”_

     His body tensed. A shiver of uneasy dread threatened his mind and he had to force his legs to move. It was the same gravelly voice he had heard in the brig and the image of the marred being fully intimidated him, but he successfully shrouded his shameful emotion and approached with pretentious confidence. As he neared the formidable alien on the throne, his hard eyes were suddenly caught by another person kneeling on the floor before him.

     It was a boy; young scrawny and awkward. Though he was tall for his age, his youthful face suggested that he had not yet passed the age of fourteen. Hux looked down on him in surprise as he arrived at his side. “Supreme Leader, forgive me, I was not made aware that you had been priorly engaged.” His green eyes shifted from the ruler’s twisted face, back to the young teenager as he felt the boy’s glaring eyes boring through his wall of projected importance.

     “This is my apprentice, Kylo Ren.” Snoke waved calmly toward the boy. “Rise, child.”

     The skinny apprentice shuffled to his feet, letting his unruly dark hair sting his eyes as it fell out of place. He was dressed in a gray cowl and covered by a long black cloak that pooled around his feet.

     “The raw strength of the mighty Skywalker blood boils within his veins. He is heir to the legendary Sith lord Darth Vader, master of evil.”

     The pride dripping from the Supreme Leader’s mouth as he spoke about this boy struck a raw nerve of jealousy and Hux turned his head to take in the full vision of his newborn rival.

     Their eyes met, and a mutual feeling of budding jealous hatred was made clear to each other’s minds.

     “How do you do?” Colonel Hux, knowing that the boy was never going to break the silence, gave him a polite nod.

     In response, Kylo Ren gave him an offhanded scoff and turned back toward the Supreme Leader. “Master? What purpose does this man have to be in your throne room? I feel it unwise to allow petty officers to enter your esteemed presence.”

     The redheaded man clenched his fists. “This is the uniform of a Colonel! I am no petty officer, boy!”

     “Did you claw and fight your way up through the ladder of ranks, _Colonel?”_ His voice grew soft with maddening sarcasm.

     Hux bit down on his tongue while potent rage warmed his neck. Just as he opened his mouth to put the apprentice back in his place, a surge of fear overtook his mind and killed his retort.  

     “Silence!” Snoke’s booming voice caused the room to quake and both teenagers straightened their backs at attention. “This officer is the son of Brendol Hux and will therefore be stationed here to work alongside his father in establishing our new stormtrooper training program.”

     Colonel Hux felt his blood turn to ice and the color left his face. With dilating pupils, his mental walls crumbled, and he could feel that familiar bead of nervous sweat moisten his back as his tongue dried out.

   Sensing his drastic change in attitude, the frightening Supreme Leader snapped his glaring eyes to the distressed officer. “Is there a problem with my plan, Colonel?” He leaned forward, digging his sharp fingernails into his throne.

     Hux remained quiet, unable to form words and he flinched as a sudden painful sensation ripped through his head. His eyes blurred as he began to feel his consciousness being torn from his body. At a glance he thought he saw a devious smile stretch across the annoying Kylo Ren’s mouth.

     With his wrinkled hand outstretched, Snoke closed his eyes and he searched the young man’s shattered memories. “I see it now.” In an uncaringly rough fashion, the Supreme Leader pulled out of the redhead’s splintered mind and relaxed again. “Hosnian Prime. That man is a fool.” He chuckled at the thought. “No matter. If he does not have enough sense to follow my rule than he is certainly not an asset to the First Order and will be punished for his disobedience in due time.”

     Colonel Hux staggered backward, his legs had become as gelatin. Feeling as though he would collapse at any given moment, his penetrated brain throbbed in agonizing repercussion. However, by his sheer stubborn will, he squeezed out the agony and remained standing. His heart was lodged in his throat, rubbing it raw with its incessant pounding. Never had he expected to have the privacy of his most intimate thoughts be breached in such a way. The pain would have been intolerable had he not had years of opportunity for developing an immunity to it.

     Glancing to the dark-haired teenager at his side, he knew without a doubt that the boy had already formulated a plan to follow the Force master and take control of his rival’s brain. Hux glared at the boy as his thoughts ran wild, building impenetrable walls, transforming his mind into a stronghold that only he had access to. Never again would he allow the strange fingers of a foreign mind dip into his.

     Snoke was silent and vacant for a painfully slow minute before he spoke again. “Go. Both of you. Leave me to my meditations.”

     Colonel Hux bowed quickly. “Yes, Supreme-”

     “Yes, Master.” Kylo Ren cut off his new colleague and shot him a stinging glower as they both turned to leave.

     Once in the safety of a retreating turbolift, the young boy spoke freely. “Snoke has been speaking very highly of you.” He brushed his untamable locks from his face.

     The young Colonel furrowed his brow and looked at the boy in a side glance of disbelief. Despite the age difference, their height was relatively the same and he noticed that the child’s criticizing eyes had settled on his crown of perfectly kept red hair.

     “Yes. He talks of how you will be put in charge of the Starkiller operation and rise through the officer ranks with ease.”

     “Starkiller operation?” He turned to face him; the face of sullen intrigue cloaking his feelings of hate for a fleeting moment.

     The boy scoffed and stared darkly into the Colonel’s eyes. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

     The jerk of the elevator signaled their disembark and the doors unfolded, allowing the glare of polished artificial light to pour over them.

     The red-haired man stepped out in a complete state of compelling fascination. “It certainly sounds important. Do I have control of this simulation program now?”

     A horribly loud cackle burbled from the young teenager. “It is not a simulation! It is a weapon!” He heightened the volume of his humiliating laughter, attracting the attention of all those within earshot, and rudely shoved the mortified Colonel with his shoulder as he cut off his stride in leaving the lift. “You’ll never make it past Colonel! Do the First Order a favor and go back to your Academy, Soldier Boy!”

     Hux lowered his chin, his green eyes filling with a deep loathing as he watched the haughty apprentice dissolve amongst the crowd. His lips tightened, and he could feel the darkness rising in his throat, thickening his blood and casting an irreversible ironclad hatred for Kylo Ren with its fires.

 


	14. The Starkiller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue chapter.
> 
> Here comes the General.

**_ STARKILLER BASE: FIRST ORDER RALLY _ **

**Present Day**

     “General?”

     The air was frozen. Great stiff puffs of hot breath steamed from his nose as he slowly opened his hard, green eyes. Although his unique dark uniform had been heavily layered with thick Gaberwool, and his boots properly insulated against the weather, the frigid climate of the weaponized ice planet tore through to his skin just the same as if he were completely bare.

     He did not mind the cold, in fact, he welcomed and embraced it. There was a sort of relentless and merciless, ferocity about it that proved admirable; adequate and well-suited for the strict man he had become.

     “General Hux?” The shadow of a man graced the floor of his poorly heated room and saluted him with shivering grandeur when he glanced up from his reddened, gloved hands.

     “Captain Opan.” The tone of his voice held every sense of control and he spoke evenly; utterly unaffected by the freezing air rushing into his lungs upon each word.

     “Sir, the weapon is ready to fire.” Not daring to connect their gazes, the respectful officer lowered his hand and glued it to his back. “The thermal oscillator is fully functional, and the troops assembled per your request.”

     “The targeting controls are primed and in position to destroy the Hosnian System?” He erected his back and folded his striped sleeve behind.

     “Yes, General.”

     “Excellent.” Perching his black commander’s cap atop his flawless red locks, he took a calm frozen breath, and stepped outside into the shocking cold.

     “If only your father could see you now, sir, see how far you’ve come. He’d be beside himself with pride.” Captain Opan grinned and nodded with a knowing gesture.

     General Hux stopped; the ends of his regal greatcoat curling around his calves. Lifting his chin from his chest, he stared coldly ahead and sneered at the mention of the foolish Commandant from so long ago. “Do not praise our enemies with such cordial stances. Unless you fancy spending six months in reconditioning, Opan.”

     With that, he casually marched out across an enormous decorated stage. The core of the snow planet vibrating eagerly through his boots with every step he took. Looking out to a vast army of stormtroopers and officers, he admired his army with burgeoning pride. Each one of them had been taken and trained as children to serve the First Order with pride. These war machines were products of his methods alone and the confidence he bestowed upon them was astronomical.

     Framed by the sharp symbol of the First Order, the young General elegantly clutched his fists behind his back and took a brutally cold breath; raising his deep steady voice for all to hear. “Today, is the end of the Republic…”

      

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! what a ride! I want to say thanks to all my readers. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. 
> 
> Any thoughts, critiques, opinions, favorite character, favorite moment? I would love to hear all of it!
> 
> Thanks again for reading. May the Force be with you.


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